Cold drops stood upon Wood's brow, as he encountered this obstacle. . “Miserable bounder,” he murmured. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. The gulf between rich and poor was perhaps greater in France, but by all accounts it was not the canaille who were responsible for the present turmoil. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. She was, as Capes had said, a hard young woman.
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