"I am here, you see," said the smith. “There’s no one here except me. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. Sheppard snatched back her hand from his grasp, and exerted all her force to repel his advances.
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