As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. The wretch you confide in has sworn to hang you. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. She seemed tense when not playing, he noted, more so than she had during the first two pieces.
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