He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. "I am glad you think that," she replied. He did not think of her as a killer, he could barely conceive it. This he carried on by procuring witnesses to swear away the lives of those persons who had incurred his displeasure, or whom it might be necessary to remove. A woman cannot change her soul.
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