He roused curiosities. ‘You are there. Half after six. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. So I packed up and came to London next day.
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