"Gone," replied the wounded man. ‘You put that thing away now, missie. You never can tell. There are unwritten laws governing human conduct. The prostitute’s attack was predictable, typical. ‘One of your countrymen, perhaps?’ The girl clammed up, the moon of her white face staring up at him in the darkness. She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. Michelle waved to her, then flitted over to where she was sitting.
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