She seemed to think he was merely the paymaster, handing over the means of her freedom. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. “Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection.
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