“I suppose all life is an affair of chances. She killed a man who was squatting outside of a freezing brick shanty on the southern edge of Chicago as he waited for his dealer. “A Socialist of the order of John Ruskin. "I am quite easy now; receive my blessing, my dear son; and if we never meet again, rest assured my last prayer shall be for you. Even then she had understood vaguely that she had touched upon some philosophy of life: that one was never lonely when alone, only in the midst of crowds. “If I cut her neck, you’ll never get the stains out of your fancy car. Asking her way once or twice, she passed along Fleet Street into the Strand, and crossed Trafalgar Square, into Piccadilly.
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