And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. They carried no more than bare subsistence wages; and they demanded all her time and energy. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips.
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