Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. Glancing around his prison, he began to think it possible he might effect an escape from it. Sheppard.
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