269 They pulled up to the same spot where Michelle’s and the young man’s bodies were, already attracting dust and creeping bugs in the pit. The Enschede Bible—the one out of which she read—had been strangely mutilated. Die game. Death belongs to God, young man. It was grated and crested with spikes, like that he had just burst open, and thinking it a needless waste of time to force it, he broke off one of the spikes, which he carried with him for further purposes, and then climbed over it. But you must allow me to observe, my good Sir, that you're wholly in the wrong respecting my friend. “You had no right—” panted Ann Veronica. You’ll end up dead, that’s what. “Well, you’ve seen the kitchen and the dining room, but did I show you the basement?” He asked.
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