Her bald head had swollen on her shoulders, puffy with fresh blood that ringed her mouth. They chatted pleasantly as he drove around the neighborhood for a half an hour, then stopped by the Diedermayer house. ‘To read and write, of course, and to sew. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. He was a fool. ’ ‘You ain’t never,’ gasped Pottiswick. He had hurt her.
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