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"By Heaven!" cried he in a tone of surprise, "you have an infant there?" "To be sure I have," replied Wood, angrily; for, finding that the intentions of the stranger were pacific, so far as he was concerned, he thought he might safely venture on a slight display of spirit. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. Ah, but she could remember; and many things there were that she would never forgive. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. One has to train one’s self not to.
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