Stanley regarded his neighbor’s clean-shaven face almost warily. They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. She was interested by the swearing of the witnesses. Glancing towards him she saw that a shadow had fallen upon his face. ” She said mournfully. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly.
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