His breakfast despatched, which he ate with a wolfish appetite, he walked over to Newgate, chuckling as he went at the consternation which his appearance would create amongst the turnkeys. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. It isn’t illusions—for us. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. You are the High Priestess of Life. I sang to him, and he was satisfied. For a short time they allowed me to share the warmth of their lives.
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