“Anna,” she moaned, “I am a jealous, ungrateful woman. She had decided that she would begin with her pearl necklace. The imbecile. Part 3 She dismissed the first hotels she passed, she scarcely knew why, mainly perhaps from the mere dread of entering them, and crossed Waterloo Bridge at a leisurely pace. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. Sometimes I take innocent lives. The slim knife was wrested from her grasp, and she was flung backwards, towards the bookcases.
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