G'night, kids. “I have never forgotten. Darting forward at this sound, Jack threw open the door, and beheld Quilt kneeling over Thames, who'se hands and feet were bound with cords, and about to plunge his sword into his breast. “You haven’t seen him in three hundred years?” He asked. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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