” She leaned against the back wall of the place, sinking slowly. Bought the freedom of a sing-song girl; and all the while you knew you'd have to tote the girl back. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. 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. We married, and for a time we were happy. But now it’s beads by the cask—like the hold of a West African trader. "Try fifty pounds more," said Jonathan.
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