You'll have to pardon us, Miss Wood, she said. It was July's and she didn't want to have anything to do with anything of July's. He kicked her several times, until she fell over and lay curled up. I'd like to drink a couple of more bottles of good whiskey before I have to cross any more of them cold rivers.
An old man named Gill owned the livery stable. His father had fallen drunk out of a barn loft in Mississippi and broken his neck. It was all past, well past. As she heard him walk off through the dankness, her spirits sank even lower.
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