” She wanted to feast upon him badly, his passion, his youthfulness. ‘Poor Hilary. She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. She thought her niece very hard and very self-possessed and self-confident. At the door to the kitchen, he called out, ‘Pottiswick!’ The old man came out, shoving his chin in the air and glaring. ‘Come, mademoiselle. Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs.
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