"Follow me, Thames," cried Jack, dropping into the chasm. The wound lay open for five seconds, and then closed neatly as if it had been stitched by invisible hands. But you could have just as easily lost your womb in the Pestilence, and your life. She was by his side. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck.
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