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Every word you utter puzzles me. Wood in the deepest mourning. Sheila’s boys hadn’t been much help when they were around the house, anyway, they were more partial to lolling around on couches and running around with their girls. His breath grew shallower as he approached the room, conscious of the loudness of his hallway-reverberated footfalls. ‘Well?’ he uttered between heavy breaths. “I knew that you waited at the farmhouse. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. At this piece of information, the two subordinate officers were observed to exchange glances; and, after a little agreeable raillery on their captain's gallantry, they begged permission to accompany him in his visit. ‘Gone!’ he said. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind.
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