The picture of her flashed across the doctor's vision magically. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. She saw its depraved eyes, but worse were the glittering teeth as it smiled. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it. She must kill this man, or kill herself.
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