Black blood and white bone flew into the corners of the crypt, slathering the dead faces of the corpses left piled in the corner. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. "I had a terrible dream last night. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. ‘When she lies outright, she thinks about it. The world isn’t ready for girls to start out on their own yet; that’s the plain fact of the case.
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