“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. “I do not know. “This is MY thing,” said Ann Veronica, softly, with thoughtful eyes upon him. What better way to be rid of him? ‘Jacques,’ she uttered urgently. “Did you ever see women so weary-looking and so dowdy? They do not talk. “Oh, but life is difficult!” she groaned. ” She smiled at him, an understanding smile, but her words defied him. She quickly strangled him with the piano wire as he looked at her, his lips open as if to scream, but his larynx had been intentionally sliced.
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