\" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. Very slowly emerging out of a phase of stupefaction, these personal affairs and her personal problem resumed possession of her mind. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible.
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