The pain in Cathy and Shari Beck’s faces upset him the most, but the posters with a close up of her face they had put all over town made his heart ache more. He had hired not one but two engineers to record the event, subsidized entirely out of his own meager pocket. "Are you a poltroon, after all?" "That's it! I ought to have died that night!" "Or is there a taint of insanity in your family history? Alone and practically penniless like yourself! You weren't even stirred by gratitude. ” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake. ” The strain in her face was visible as she tried to remember. I was afraid of being talked about.
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