“I’d chuck this lark right off if I were you, Vee,” he said. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker. I’m six hundred and forty-eight years old, John! I should have never seduced a young boy, let alone expected him to keep my secrets for me. ” He released her hand and talked in eager undertones against an auditory background of urgency and distress. ’ ‘Dear me. Wood—" "That's false!" cried a voice behind him.
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