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“You can’t imagine,” Sydney exclaimed, “that the people downstairs will be such drivelling asses as to believe piffle like that. Come every day to see you was flourishing. 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. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. He seemed to do ten things before she could think to do one, to leap upon her and take possession.
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