“It is too late for visitors,” she remarked. The windows were still darkened—perhaps she was not home yet. ’ ‘But, no,’ She dimpled. "Something's wrong. I thought that you were he. A fire enveloped her, a fire which was strangely healing, filling her heart with warmth, blotting out the menace of the world. A moment afterwards, the door was closed and bolted, and the carpenter found himself alone.
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