All at once Melusine remembered Pottiswick, and the errand he had run. Spurlock had sensed what had gone completely over McClintock's head—that this was the playing of a soul in damnation. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. ‘Lucky I have you to keep me from Bedlam, then.
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