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\" \"No, but can you carry my lunch bag? Where is yours?\" Michelle asked. I guess they were bad all the time. A snarl contorted his features, and he marched up to it, laying his pistol down on the marquetry table so that his hands were free to grab the picture off the wall. He did not want Ruth to see his own stricken countenance; nor did he care to see hers, ravaged by tears.
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