’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. Practically it was most of the chief interests in life that she proposed to settle in this pedestrian meditation. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. She sat down by the paperrack with a general feeling of resemblance to Vivie Warren, and looked through the Morning Post and Standard and Telegraph, and afterward the half-penny sheets. Wood heard the cry.
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