It is queer how ideas pop into one's head. She ran through the backyards of Pinecrest subdivision, piano wire and a slim jim tucked into her pantyhose. "My own father!" Queerly the room and its objects receded and vanished; and there intervened a series of mental pictures that so long as she lived would ever be recurring. He had conveyed it to her, not verbally, but by means of a letter, which seemed to her a singularly ignoble method of prohibition. The stranger turned his head at the sound.
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