She bolted upright as she heard footsteps rumble towards the door, cursing UPS for being so damn persistent in such foul weather. But his daughter might well have a claim. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. "Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. She tried to think how people get work.
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