“It is Michelle, John. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. Ice had begun to form in the shallows. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side.
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