"Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. You should have a dog. Profoundly. 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. But, finding the cellar-door open, concluded he had got out that way. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. ” She dropped back into a crouching attitude and began to weep. Beneath the shelf, containing these books, hung the fine old ballad of 'St. ” She took the blue box from her hoodie and held it towards him.
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