I get my driver's license tomorrow. Wood scarcely knew where he was. The expression was wholly different. The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. A chain, riveted to an iron belt encircling her waist, bound her to the wall. Perhaps her granddaughter might marry his grandson. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I don’t understand this change in you.
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