The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. CHAPTER III. The door opened. I will go to-night. To his consternation, she was holding an unwieldy, ugly-looking pistol, all wood and tarnished steel, with both hands about the butt. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. He picked her up outside her last period Ceramics class. Papa doesn't even care, but he just goes along with whatever my Mom says.
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