Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. When I was younger, I was very sick with a deadly flu. Sheppard let fall her basket. 'Sdeath! what can I have done with it? Oh! here it is," cried Hogarth, picking it from the ground. Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. To be complete, my vengeance must be tardy.
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