Cautiously stepping outside, he looked up towards the terrace. As for me, I look twice at it. She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. The young man had knocked over the siphon. “She can’t.
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