Her straight strawberry blonde hair was exactly Cathy’s. Wood, "and take your son with you. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. “I’ll be hanged if I do. “He is one of our guests—perhaps I should say boarders here, but he seldom returns before dinner-time. He's young and sound. I hate this part of the world. The place pulsed with music too loud to converse above. From there I plan to travel until I reach Columbia—but any lawless country will do.
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