She gaped at its keep, at least ten feet tall, a frightening gray coffin turned upright. \"Sure, I'd love to borrow some clothes for the night. Wood hadn't struck me. Sheppard, fleeing from him to the farthest corner of the room. She cried for hours but would not scream as her mother was packed into a marble coffin. He looked like the shadow of himself—thin, feeble, hollow-eyed—his beard unshorn—nothing could be more miserable. He smiled.
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