He saw that his words were falling upon dull ears. . Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. I've sent for the priest. “Child!” he cried. Like a trollop in heat. Brendon’s had an awful stroke of luck. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime.
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