The first peg was torture. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. I’m convinced that much of Russell’s investigations are on wrong lines, unsound lines. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. 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.
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