Good riddance. Wood. ” He said. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Ruth did not consider it necessary, however, to add that she had not notified this aunt of her coming, that she did not know whether the aunt still resided in Hartford or was underground. He thrust out a rhetorical hand. " "What happened?" Ah Cum recounted the story of the sing-song girl.
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