‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. You'd be coming up to Hong-Kong, but you'd be cutting out Canton. Sebastian had fetched tallow, which she angrily ordered him not to use, as she suspected its origin was not animal but human. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. I’m not Gerald, remember.
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