"I had no thought of injuring your wife, and would have died rather than commit so foul a crime. She answered him with another kiss, long and deep. Beyond that everything was nebulous. His name was Peter. Hill. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. " "Aye, music hits them. "That's odd. ‘Least of all, one who takes advantage of another’s misfortune.
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