"Come Bess,—no whimpering. “See you at school tomorrow. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight.
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