She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. As he looked around, he beheld an incessant stream of passengers hurrying on below. “You must not think of me as one. Fear nothing. "You've got him?" demanded Ireton. ’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. “They might do you good,” she remarked. "You are my prisoner.
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