The arrival of the cart at the end of Field Lane, appeared the signal for an attempt at rescue. Your mother arrived, and she knew me for what I was, she whispered to me curses against werewolves and vampires when I was alone in a room with her. "I'd lay down my life for yours. But the cases were not identical. “And now,” she said, splintering the surviving piece of coal into indignant flame-spurting fragments with one dexterous blow, “what am I to do? “I’m in a hole!—mess is a better word, expresses it better.
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