How she learned of her heritage I do not know, but you need not imagine that it is greed that drives her. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. Lucy's grin faded. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. He was a business man, pure and simple, his eyes were fastened always upon the practical side of life. Flowers, theatre boxes, carriages, the “open sesame” to the whole world of pleasure. Indeed, if he had been ignorant of it, the sound of voices which he could faintly distinguish, would have served as a caution to him. He could lose himself for hours at a time. . ‘I do not know how you think you may help me,’ she said slowly. I think we will soon, though.
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