My nerves are shaken. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. "Something worse, I fear," Wood replied. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. More importantly, she had her wits.
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