GTFO of my house.
On idle afternoons I have patiently observed spiders spin shrouds of silk for their trapped prey. The light within must be similar to that which falls upon the city of Lima from April to December, when the sun is hidden by the dismal garua, […]
I stumbled along through the young pines and huckleberry bushes. Pretty soon I struck into a sort of path that, I cal'lated, might lead to the road I was hunting for. It twisted and turned, and, the first thing I knew, made a sudden bend around a bunch of bayberry scrub and opened out into a big clear space like a lawn.
[…] their eyes angrily flashing under the umbrils of their helmets. […] “I came not here to ask idle questions,” replied Scarthe, with a laugh that rang ironically through the bars of his umbril.
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