Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. Old farmhouses loomed as they whizzed by, left behind in the gray like mourners. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. ” “You disappoint me,” she said wearily. She thought of how tired she was, how exhausted, how hungry. But what I do is based upon the fact that he is one of those individuals who are conscience-driven.
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