Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain. "There's his knock. It was a pity he didn't break his neck, for he was hanged within the year. ’ ‘Yolande, my maid?’ ‘You don’t need a maid,’ Martha said stoutly. An unwelcome idea came to him. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity.
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