Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. “Annabel?” he exclaimed. ‘You mean I should give myself a dressingdown? Very well. It’s gone. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. Though he never seen so much of Miss Mary as I did. Ruth met him in the hall as he was following his family into the dining room. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment.
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