‘What the devil do you think you’re doing?’ protested Hilary angrily. ’ He glanced at Roding. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. 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.
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