“The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. Annabel was born soulless, a human butterfly, if ever there was one. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. " "Say the word, and I'm mum," returned the executioner. They are not your children, they never were. Wild horses wouldn’t drag it out of me, even I knew anything, which I don’t. ‘Not kill me, I mean.
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