” He stood looking at the preparations before them with an unusual preoccupation of manner, then roused himself to take her jacket, a little awkwardly, and hand it to the waiter who hung it in the corner of the room. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. "See her I will. I don’t know that I understand altogether. Her father became much less distant towards his only daughter in the days that followed. Bring me food, a man, hurry!” She placed the stone back over the crypt to hide the evidence of what she had uncovered. His efforts at self-destruction were, however, prevented. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote.
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