Lucy had tried for years to find a way of not getting blood all over herself when she made a kill. She was clad in fresh linen, but still wore the riding-habit she had appropriated, having sponged out the spots of blood late last night and left it to dry in the kitchens. Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends.
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