I do forgive him; but he will never know now. But once I started, Forever Fifteen seemed to fly out of me like a bat out of Hell, virtually writing itself. His eyes on Melusine, he uncocked the pistol, and then reached out to the portrait, grasping it by one edge. She is no longer mine; she is yours. No one is safe. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically.
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