What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. Sebastian, too, seemed to be immune, even though cats, dogs, and beasts of the suffered just as the humans did: blackening and dying, their eyes rolling, their bodies covered with bald buboes. A woman’s shoe lay on the threadbare carpeting. But I'm not worrying about that. Happy Birthday, then. Wood scarcely knew where he was.
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