“I saw his face in a mirror. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Then one old crone, short-sighted and shaky-handed, called Ann Veronica “dearie,” and made some remark, obscure and slangy, of which the spirit rather than the words penetrated to her understanding. So he decided to stay. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter.
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