Sebastian, too, seemed to be immune, even though cats, dogs, and beasts of the suffered just as the humans did: blackening and dying, their eyes rolling, their bodies covered with bald buboes. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. “No thanks, Cathy. Her heart's in the right place, at all events; and, since that's the case, the rest may perhaps come round, —that is, if she gets through her present illness. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood.
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