"But you do agitate me so much. What about them?” He called a hansom. Joe, my foster dad, was a heroin and booze addict. She quickly strangled him with the piano wire as he looked at her, his lips open as if to scream, but his larynx had been intentionally sliced. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. "Who, then?" demanded Jack.
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