Young Loomis, cad on the prowl, approached Miss Evans.  Somehow, he felt that brandishing a musket would assure her that he meant no harm.  I managed to quell the concerns, but I had call for a thorough “Come to Bentham” meeting, and he was an apt pupil, my arm no longer sore from the cane I once employed as my teacher’s assistant.

I certainly need his feline reflexes and eye for danger, but it seems clear to me that the good Doctor Hoffman should ultimately assist Doctor Lang.  And a fine one she shall be.

Upon reflection, and despite a morality that could benefit from the boon of plasticity, I am pleased that I did not kill her.



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