Not far from him was a knot of lads drinking, swearing, and playing at dice as eagerly and as skilfully as any of the older hands. “You are a miracle! God spares few from the Pestilence. “And where are YOU going?” he said. “When it comes there is no mistaking it. The Well Hole 336 XIII. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. I am sorry to seem to hurt you, but all I say is for your good.
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