“You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. Thunder rumbled behind the manicured hills. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. "You'll be as good as your word, my charmer," whispered the executioner. “Looks like old times here, I see. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape.
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