"See the devil!—not I," cried Wood impatiently. . “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. They went into Michelle's tiny bedroom, bare except for a dresser, a closet, and a miniscule single bed that resembled her own at the Becks. “You know that I have always hated this!” She 264 looked down at Michelle’s pitifully bloody head, her body barely hanging on to its breath. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question.
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