" The girl fished into the bottle for an olive. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. I mean my cut-offs and boots. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. She winked at him as he shut the door. "Or trying to be," answered the doctor.
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