Like a river swollen by many currents, it gathered force from the various avenues that poured their streams into it. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. She got up, drew up her blind, and stared out of window at a dawn-cold vision of chimneys for a time, and then went and sat on the edge of her bed. No doubt he has been drinking for days without eating substantially, and his heart gave out. She thought of them as fools, but had been sorry to see them go. She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. Strike the gag, Blueskin.
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