She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. . There was, it might be said, a double illumination. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. She had always wondered when they would start being able to trace her kills, with their expanding systems of criminal databases and computers, and now it was starting to happen. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. . He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. “I wish I understood more of biology,” said Manning. But I’m not a slut either, if that’s what you think. She never expected to get her ladyship home alive.
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