A dry cough's the trumpeter of death. " "Take time to consider of it," replied Wood sulkily, "there's no hurry. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. I’ll kill you, Sheila, and I’ll kill her too. Sheila was finishing her laughter as Lucy brought an elbow down on the back of her head, expertly snapping the vertebra that connected Sheila’s head to her shoulders. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair.
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