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” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. She felt herself falling, her bile rising in her 61 throat, the cold wind spinning around her like vertigo. The transverse spars before mentioned were as slippery as ice; and the hollows between them were filled ankle-deep with water. The first time, I overlooked the offence; but the second time, when I had planned to break open the house of his master, the fellow who visited you to-night,—Wood, the carpenter of Wych Street,—he betrayed me.
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