” Hill closed his eyes. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. Still, Katy Pfister is a grumpy whore who would open her legs for half the football team if given a chance. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. ‘Give me that!’ He took his finger away from her neck and made a grab at the handkerchief. Whisky kills him suddenly; it does not sap him gradually.
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