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She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. I don't believe his name is Taber. She could smell the savory tinge of his sweat in the air. Every so often a wall of water, thin and jadecoloured, would rise up over the port bow, hesitate, and fall smacking amidships. Alas! that the punishment of his offences should fall on her head. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath.
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