She turned there and beckoned. You're easy to please. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. The day was unseasonably humid and dark, a thick fog having descended over manicured lawns. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. '—'Pretty well,' says I; 'you're not badly off at the Friars, for that matter.
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