“Was he really?” She asked, waiting on baited breath. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. The original passage, Martha had told her, had led only from an upstairs room to one downstairs. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. "I suppose it didn't drop through the ceiling, did it? Are you quite sure it's flesh and blood?" asked he, playfully pinching its arm till it cried out with pain.
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