She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. "And, does any of our bright blood flow in the veins of a ruffianly housebreaker?" cried Trenchard, with a look of bewilderment. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. It would be an ice storm by midnight if it did not let up.
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