She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. Oh the back of her arm she found the faintest down of hair in the world. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player. "These writer chaps are queer birds. Stanley went on, “but there are things— there are stories about Ramage.
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