Spurlock—for that's his real name—were married at high noon. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. Wiped out, but for these. " "Hush!" replied Mrs. She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. "His shin may need rubbing. 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. Rowland," she added, in an altered tone, "I am certain I shall not live many days. You've betrayed yourself, Thames.
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