He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. Was it a week ago? No, perhaps more. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. There was nothing to replace the all important letter from her father. Very intelligent, by the looks of the books she was carrying. A few random students gawked at them in the hall. “I think,” she said, “that I will tell you everything. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. “I wonder if there are any good women really.
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