I’m so sorry I can’t stop it, sobbed the voice next to her ear. I keep trying but it won’t stop . . . “It’s all right,” she said automatically. She was going to be ill and she was being dragged backward along the length of a creature made of lost souls and glue and still she was trying to reassure someone. Of course she was. That was how she was going to die, telling someone it was all right for stabbing her, really, she didn’t mind . . . The thief-wheel dropped her. Perhaps she had worked her way to the end. She struck the floor of the corridor and then, mercifully, she fainted.
