A few seasons went by where he initiated her into the disgusting rituals of killing and eating human beings, a dark time where she pined for a rescuer who never arrived. Stanley was throughout enigmatical, with an anxious eye on her husband and Alice. "And I," muttered Jack. His figure was tall and commanding, and the expression of his countenance (though somewhat disturbed by his recent exertion) was resolute and stern. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. She seemed smitten with a paroxysm of fear. Her body was perpetually tanned, despite the approach of winter. “You, anyhow, don’t deserve it,” he said.
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