Taking her limbs was the only thing I could do short of killing her. “Did I do something wrong?” He asked. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. Descending the hollow, or rather excavation,—for it was an old disused clay-pit, at the bottom of which the cottage was situated,—he speedily succeeded in arousing the ancient sibyl, and having committed Edgeworth Bess to her care, with a promise of an abundant reward in case she watched diligently over her safety, and attended to her comforts till his return,—to all which Black Mary readily agreed,—he departed with a heart lightened of half its load. She placed the freezer back on top of Ray Plote's old hiding place, now his permanent resting place. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer.
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