’ ‘Indeed, I’m beginning to think so,’ he said ruefully. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Some foul murder has been committed. “I suppose all life is an affair of chances. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity.
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