You see, I’m selfish. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. Earles that I was ‘Alcide,’” Anna remarked quietly. Darkness closed in on them as the officers stepped inside the musty interior. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. You have told me that you cared.
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