Wood. ‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. I’m minded to take a whip and beat some sense into you. What a fool I was to separate the two in my mind. The office is a sight—not one sheet of paper on another; bills and receipts everywhere. The knife is at my breast. “Do you need me to tell you? You have tasted the luxury of power. “Thank you.
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