Forgetting the dark thoughts of his last brush with the girl, he dropped the dagger back in his pocket, quickened his pace, and went back into the house to look for his hostess. Wood fancied he recognised. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. I made it a point to bring beachcombers to the house to fill her with horror of mankind. “We parted— that night the best of friends. ” A bureaucratic three hours later, the paperwork was finished. He walked with bent head.
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