She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger.
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