"Them's catchpoles, I s'pose, Sir, arter the gemman with a writ?" he observed. It was too good to be true. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. I leaned over and looked at him—he was quite still. So you took my womb away, you took my baby! So I could be a monster! Because she was a monster! We are monsters!” He grabbed the top of the cannon away from her face. The young officer sat in front, his hat perfectly straight. .
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