Three times she escaped. Chuck had did himself in because Chuck was a flaming homosexual. ‘But I have the pistol,’ Gerald pointed out. He, next cautiously tried the door, but found it fastened inside. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. The echo of those kindly words seemed still to ring in her ears.
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