Even in her painting smock and with her disarranged hair, the likeness between the two girls was marvellous. But I never betray an old customer. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. It had evidently seen better days before being relegated to the ministrations of a hackney coachman, one who evidently served the less affluent inhabitants of London. Clement's church. No; I’m going to stick to the rules.
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