“It is about your sister, Lady Ferringhall. " "He couldn't help it, Ruth. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. He proposed, he wanted to possess her! He loved her. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. At this gate two paths meet.
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