He had been quite right to sit down. Here again instinct guided her. She nuzzled his chest and he breathed deeply of the scent of her Finesse conditioner. The thief-taker's throat was bound up with thick folds of linen, and his face had a ghastly and cadaverous look, which communicated an undefinable and horrible expression to his glances. There's a man dying—Captain Darrell.
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