I heard only after it was all over. Sheppard, faintly. Sebastian dug through the viscous layers of foul-smelling clay with a shovel, each successive insertion creating an obscene sucking noise that ate at her sanity. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain. Sheppard, passing her hand across her brow; "but my memory is gone—quite gone. Amid a litter of nails without heads, screws without worms, and locks without wards, lay a glue-pot and an oilstone, two articles which their owner was wont to term "his right hand and his left. It was better even than the hymn-singing.
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