Sepulchre's clock struck eight. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. I’m glad you’re back for all sorts of reasons. I once saw a man die after collapsing that way.
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