Andrew's, the churchyard wall of St. Manning regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and stroked his mustache. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. As long as I live here, you stop fucking the children and you stop trying to fuck me. But I do hope, Vee, I do hope—this is the end of these adventures.
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