” He rose from his chair, and walked restlessly up and down the room. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. ‘I’ll make you an offer.
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