" "There are bad stories, then, just as there are bad people?" "Yes. Her life hangs upon a thread, and this may snap it. ‘Pardon, milor’,’ said Valade, ‘but Monsieur Charvill, he was not at fault. ‘Brung the lantern, I did, and opened the door again in case you was ready. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her.
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