" "Poor Jack!" sighed Thames. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. The windows which were about nine feet from the floor, had no glass; but were secured by thick iron bars, and an oaken beam. Lucy sighed, finding it odd to switch roles as she had over the past weeks. She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still.
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