They laughed and talked and stared about them. “She was the High Priestess who turned me in Greece, before Rome. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow. The Ragged Edge. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips.
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