She crouched beneath a stump, her extremities twitching as the sun set orange and blue beyond the lace of iron-black trees. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. "I've a good deal to do. She had never understood how much knowledge had been kept from her because she was a woman and even began to doubt the methods of the Church, something she never would have dared before. Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar.
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