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Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. Conscientious objectors to that process are not permitted, she found, in Canongate. Some days, his eyes were green. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace. Though they do, in secret, I believe.
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