" Silence. Gosse took a step or two towards the centre of the room. Wild in my presence! He's the right-hand of the community! We could do nothing without him!" "We!" repeated Wood, significantly. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last.
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