Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. But the twins were so fucked over at that point they were zombies.
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