He tugged at the overly large hooded sweatshirt, which she unzipped and let fall to the ground. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover.
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