Later Gwen’s trouble weighed so heavily on Mrs. “Not like it’s your fault if you wake up one day and decide you hanker for a nice piece of ass, a ten-minute tumble. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister.
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