The two hostlers, however, kept close at his heels; and Jack, whose strength began to flag, feared he could not hold much longer. His smile faded. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. She would buy a Greyhound ticket to New Orleans, make a kill or two, then travel into Texas and seduce some wandering man into taking her to Mexico, feast upon him once they got there. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales.
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