The evenings were dulcet and soft. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. ’ ‘In one little minute,’ she said, snapping her fingers, ‘it is over and voilà tout. And this shall be your diet till you die. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. ’ ‘Don’t be too sure,’ said Miss Froxfield darkly, with a mischievous glance at her betrothed. Here was a thundering blow.
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