This newcomer was blocky and blessedly un-thin in his boxtail coat. Directly above their heads, a band of clouds was moiling toward the horizon as steadily as a conveyor belt. “We’re going to make a little side-trip, boys,” he said. ”They go in a cluster that might have been comic under other circumstances.
The galloped-out pony that had brought the witch back to Hambry had been replaced by a fresh one, but it was the same black cart, the same golden cabalistic symbols, the same driver. Yes, she wondered very much, for in adjusting her position on the saddle, she had put her hand on the rolled blanket behind . He sounded dour, unhappy. “It feels almost not serious—a practical joke.
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