John’s demeanor shifted. "And now, widow," he continued, "attend to the next verse, for it consarns a friend o' yours. One could enter and leave by proa, but nothing with a keel could cross the coral gate. ‘Exactly like my father. We’re closer than you think. That night, she hunted the alleyways of the old town. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird.
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