She had fled back to Florence quite intent on slitting the new bride’s throat. ’ But she reckoned without the fellow Trodger. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. ‘That’s why I’m asking. Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. Anna and her escort exchanged glances.
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