Blood dripped down one side of her forehead. Like a trollop in heat. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. ’ ‘As far as I know it, ma’am. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering.
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