"So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. Kneebone is coming, my dear," ventured Mr. Her cargo is nearly shipped. Martin’s parents looked at each other in embarrassed, silent communication. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town.
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