“Have you killed recently?” He was curious, scared. My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. . She was a woman now to the tips of her fingers; she had said good-bye to her girlhood in the old garden four years and a quarter ago. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy.
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