Bodies were piled high in the streets, Sebastian went on rounds and would come back late at night, reporting horrors and robberies, death that came within hours, not days. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. Mike seemed visibly happier at her remark. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. The cry was echoed by twenty different voices.
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