Give me the chisel, Blueskin. The season was ripe for mating, she thought to herself bitterly. "Your health, Kneebone. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of. Sheppard found it; and, as no one opposed her, she at once took up her abode there; nor was she long in discovering that the dreaded sounds proceeded from the nocturnal gambols of a legion of rats.
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