"Why, hello, Ah Cum! What's the trouble?" Ah Cum took his hands from his sleeves. He saw his father, calling to him from an icy white tunnel, beckoning to him. And what was singular she did not recount to the doctor that morning's adventure. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors.
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