“It is no good playing a game. "Strange!" he continued, as if talking to himself. He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. "I wish merely to come out of this bargain honourably. At last—I told a story. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. “I guess I’m not the only one who wonders about your past. Gerald would certainly have demanded back his sword.
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