“I do not suppose he will be home till late. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. What was to happen now? She turned to Roding quickly. “I’m not a good woman. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. "We'll see," returned the thief-taker. You’re of age— you’re of age. " "Force the door," said Thames, "or you will be too late. He unlocked himself from her embrace.
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