Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. She wanted to know. . She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. She had already killed more than she wanted to count, yet she had counted them still. A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes.
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