John looked at his feet bashfully. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Wrenched from their holds, the iron palisades in front of the thief-taker's dwelling were used as weapons to burst open the door. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence.
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