Wood hadn't struck me. She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. “Why won’t you sleep in my bed tonight, Lucia, where 80 it’s warm?” He asked her one night, teasing but mournful, as she stood in her bedroom doorway in a long white gown. ’ ‘Who’s bleeding to death?’ demanded Trodger. CHAPTER II. . "No, no, let him alone," interposed Wood. “A little touchy this evening, aren’t we, Missy?” Michelle chided her friend. Believe me, Anna.
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