" "Wretch!" cried Jack, raising his hand in a menacing manner, "your triumph will be short-lived. They slow danced to a Bon Jovi ballad. I don't know what you have done; I don't want to know now. Woman's love of silk is not set by fashion; it is bred in the bone; and somewhere, somehow, a woman will have her bit of silk. " O'Higgins grinned. Every eye was fixed upon the prisoner. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles. “Where have you been, young lady? I know your kind, I know you sneak out every night! How long do you think it could go on? You little murdering slut! Whore! I found you out, found your blouse! Evidence! How many of your johns have you killed why you have lived at my house? Huh? They’re going to put you away for a long time, honey.
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