“Allow me. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. ” She pulled a small blue box out of the pocket of her hoodie. That’s all. "That's not an easy question to answer," rejoined Blueskin. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. He fended these things off from him with the rump of his fourth piece of cake. Wood. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them.
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