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“It is like old times,” she said, “to hear these home truths. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. "You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. “Indeed, no,” he answered. ’ ‘Oh, this is becoming nonsensical,’ exclaimed Lucilla.
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