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Coldly she spoke, in a distinctly accented voice. ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham. And every day's experience proves that I was right. Her girl Clarice was next, dying within a single day, blood leaking from her pretty brown eyes like an image of the Blessed Virgin. Fearful that she had given herself away, she sank back down onto her stool. He got off on it.
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