‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. “I thought you wanted to have a talk to me,” she said. "But you've done well to trust me. Mrs. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. Send you the shirt.
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