The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. A man, then, rushed up the entry, and, seizing the unlucky carpenter by the collar, presented a drawn sword to his throat. As long as I live here, you stop fucking the children and you stop trying to fuck me. Mr. “But your sister,” he said. She was quite unconcerned. “Please forgive me—for one moment,” she sobbed. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement.
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