Part of his head was swathed in linen bandages. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. . But she had loved the man. "Certainly not," replied Gay. “I’m not a good woman. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. It was hard to gain weight when you hated to eat. Sheppard! when I see her thus, and think of all she has endured, of all she may yet have to endure, I could almost pray for her release from trouble.
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