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"But, pardon my intrusion. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food. "Where is your accursed master?" demanded Blueskin, holding the sword to his throat. You should have known better, you cannot die, so your body and your instinct will 213 take over as your mind departs.
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