" "Then I owe my life to her?" "Positively. “All right. ” “I was turned shortly after the Pestilence, the plague that they call the Black Death. “I am tired,” she said, “and I want to rest. ” She thanked him with one of her shy little glances. “Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights.
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