“My name is Anna Pellissier, sometimes called Annabel. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. ” She wondered how much history she could reinvent before losing track of her own lies. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. I don’t think for a moment that he would recognize you. I don’t half disagree with you, Vee, really; only thing is, I don’t see how you’re going to pull it off. He had, for the most part, been correct. I'm about to leave this country for ever. I have done from the first moment I saw you. Meantime the spinsters sought the dining room where tea was being served.
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