"But, where's the strange gentleman I saw under the table?" "Under the table!" echoed Blueskin, winking at Jack. In mailing the tales he had not enclosed return postage or the equivalent in money. F. Next to the executioner stood his wife—the former Mrs. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. The mother was far more real to her than the father; the ghostly far more substantial than the living form. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real.
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