‘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. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. Managers and accountants are always shifting about, so he tells me. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face.
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