He sent me home. I am a little afraid. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. ” She said mournfully. \" Larry got up from his chair and trudged to the refrigerator, pouring himself a glass of milk from the never-ending supply of two percent. She doesn’t like you because she says the Beck’s are not ‘our kind of people’ which is her code for them not being rich enough. His obtuse hands punched and jabbed at her uselessly, then he throttled her neck with the last of his strength. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror.
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