“—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. His shouts for help were answered by roars of mockery and laughter. Before any assistance could be rendered by the jailers, who stood astounded, Blueskin had got Wild in his clutches. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying.
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