‘At least I couldn’t say for sure. And when you reflect how much at heart your poor mother, whose loss we must ever deplore, had our union, you will, I am persuaded, no longer refuse me. Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. Lucy could smell that Michelle was the body type that easily became cancerous, and fast. What you did is called manslaughter, and at the worst there is only a very slight penalty, nothing to be frightened about in the least. An admirable alternative presented itself and she sighed, spreading her hands.
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