To compare me to a starving pig. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. ‘At me,’ she uttered, holding her own pistol high and aiming it steadily. “Your name, I believe, is——” “Pellissier,” Anna answered. Lucy Albert?” “Yes, sir?” She replied, opening the door as Cathy rose from the couch and Larry stirred from his bed.
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