Petite build, like herself. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. She realized that with a pang of disgust and horror. It was at the top of the building, and looked clear over a clustering mass of inferior buildings toward Regent’s Park. She had killed the McCloskeys after they had witnessed her making a kill. She breathed deeply of the starch of his shirt.
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