She used his own gun against him, a method that was occasionally cleaner than slitting throats when she got it right. She heard the rats scattering across the stone as dirt fell into the crypt. She got into rows through meddling with their shoes and tennis-rackets, and had moments of carefully concealed admiration when she was privileged to see them just before her bedtime, rather radiantly dressed in white or pink or amber and prepared to go out with her mother. Prudence shook her head.
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