"I don't know how it is," he added in a low voice to Thames, as they were left alone, "but I've a strange foreboding of ill. ‘C’est ridicule. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth. She had to have him, her body was going crazy for the want of sex. 1.
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