They had scrubbed and dusted, torn down and hung up until noon. ‘I think you know my affianced husband. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. And as he walked by her side they began a wrangle that was none the less pleasant to Ann Veronica because it served to banish a disagreeable preoccupation.
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