Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. Coarse as were the ruffian's notions of feminine beauty, he could not be insensible to the surpassing loveliness of the fair creature, who had thus solicited his attention. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. “Yeah. A town called Foster. Wood was unable to discover the figure of the widow, but he recognised her dry, hacking cough, and was about to call her down, if she could not find the key, as he imagined must be the case, when a loud noise was heard, as though a chest, or some weighty substance, had fallen upon the floor. As a dog eats grass.
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