You called yourself a murderess. ” She glanced into his blue eyes wearily. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. They were a dull grey, but the dark frizzed hair that framed her face was attractive. " "Yes. But he didn’t marry her.
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