Wood—and after him came his daughter. Their eyes met, and his expressed perplexity and curiosity. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. " "Yes. Just as I might have killed another, if he had come out. She was glad not to be baking in it anymore, or feeling the fiberglass splinters 64 invading her rear end from sitting on the bleachers. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. A crumpled-up newspaper thrown from the gallery hit her upon the cheek.
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