Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. “But Sebastian! I need them!” He smiled, not a smile of comfort, but a smile of terrible menace.
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