"Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. ‘Who kills who?’ ‘Rot in hell,’ he snarled, panting, and managed to push himself forward and leap off the dais, running for the safety of the far aisle by the wall. Ants. Oh, I think I understand, Annabel. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. Traci was the most grateful, because he stopped his sexual advances.
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