“Was it terrible for you after he died?” “Don’t worry yourself about it John. Water poured into her eyes, nose, and mouth in a torrent from which she had to turn and wheeze. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. Earles regarded it approvingly. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned. Immediately he was gone, she regretted that she had not followed.
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