The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. Why must her old nurse discover her precisely at this moment? ‘What are you at now, may I ask?’ Martha glared at the footman. It was fastened inside. The fellow swore lustily, in a voice which Jack instantly recognised as that of Quilt Arnold, and vainly attempted to rise and draw his sword. “I’m a ghoul! So you can become a ghoul? You should settle down, John, get married, have children.
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