She had gone into Morgan's one afternoon for a bag of salt. “I cannot keep silence any longer. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. ‘Jacques, where are you hurt?’ But as she asked the question, she saw the wound. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about. Were you born here, madame?’ ‘Mais non.
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