‘Silence,’ he warned again, with a prod of the dagger at her heart. I can help you to both,—nay, I will help you to both, if you do not interfere with my plans. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. I believe he’s divorced. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. She goes out and comes home. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window.
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