They stood for a moment in the passage and listened. If you don’t like it, I won’t be mad, I promise. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. CHAPTER XIX. I’m making a mess of my life— unless you come in and take it. My profession has hardened me.
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