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She stooped for a stone and dropped it down.’Fancy being where that is now,’ she said, peering into the blackness; ‘fancy going round and round like a mouse in a pail, clutching at the slimy sides, with the water filling your mouth, and looking up to the little patch of sky above.”You had better come in,’ said Benson, very quietly. ‘You are developing a taste for the morbid and horrible.’ (“The Well”)
