The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. “I am sorry that I have murdered you. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. Don't feel fussed upon my account. ” There was never any shortage of bad men to eat, especially with pestilence and superstition to cover their tracks.
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