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. ” “And mine,” murmured his companion, with the smile still lingering upon his lips. ” She watched his face as he traced his way through these speculative thickets. ” He hesitated, and walked away from her toward the house. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. When she awoke she felt as if she were adrift on a soft cloud through a golden sky. “To Hell if we don’t change our ways. What beasts men are! I cannot typewrite, my three stories are still wandering round, two milliners have refused me as a lay figure because business was so bad. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right.
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