Even as she watched, the sweat of weakness began to form on his forehead and under the nether lip. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. But it was otherwise with the carpenter. Practically. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits.
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