Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. She no longer felt sick or dizzy, her muscles returned to a relaxed, supple state. "A little, Sir," replied the executioner, with a grim smile. There were too many kills, too many unsolved files in too many cabinets. But indeed that is not at all a good description of her attitude.
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