" It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. She had never let off a pistol in her life. I swore to hang you two years ago, but I deferred my purpose. He nodded. “Punctual. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference.
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