’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. You don't want people to snub you later. Wood. ” “I said I was all right. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp. It seemed that within an instant the Pestilence struck, and she begged me on her deathbed to shelter you and her grandson for the rest of your lives, as she could see that even though I was a ‘demon fiend’ and ‘minor devil’ that I loved you. A film of dust lay upon it; the ink marks were ancient.
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