Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. It was Annabel who caught at the paper. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. It's gin—a liquor you used to like.
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