“All right?” he asked. But his life, ruled by chance and the fight to survive had appealed strongly to Melusine’s rebellious spirit. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. Then, as he was trying to bite through the rope, I told him, ‘That’s for 107 Traci, motherfucker.
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