“What the hell is going on here, Officer?” He grumbled. “I cut off his right hand pinky with his own rusty bolt cutter. Neither your aunt nor I have any other thought but what is best for you. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. I believe I am getting impudent.
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