\" She handed the ticket seller, a boy that looked to be all of eighteen years old, murder money that she had stolen from Dawn Plote's dead son, five dollars. Looking at this girl, a sense of failure swept over him. He would have to make sure of her silence. " "There's some one in the garden at this moment," cried Jack; "I saw a face at the window. If only she had thought to plunge the scissors into her own heart! Hoddy … to return and find her either gone or dead! But even as the Wastrel's arms gathered her, there came the sound of hurrying steps on the veranda.
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