. ” Her answer was terse. I am a murderer. When it came time to eat once again, she hid out on the beach, a remote fastness beyond the city walls, a swampy morass that everyone avoided. Her companion was a portly handsome man, also dressed in a full suit of the deepest mourning, with the finest of lace at his bosom and wrists, and a sword in a black sheath by his side. Their expression was so amiable, that it would have redeemed a countenance a thousand times plainer than hers. "Who's there?—Pshaw! it's only the wind. ‘There you have soldiers.
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