We mustn’t make it so. “There’s morbid beauty,” said Ann Veronica. The place was gloomy, with its darkly panelled walls, but it was sparsely furnished. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness. Certainly I cannot kill you if you tell me to do so.
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