I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. "To him I owe everything," continued the widow, "life itself—nay, more than life,—for without his assistance I should have perished, body and soul. Miss Mary to the life, I said, and so she is. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. She nibbled at his neck gently, sweetly, as her hand tracing his chest. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. I haven't touched the other.
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