“Why did you do it?” her aunt urged. 9 <2> THE UNTIMELY DEMISE OF RAY PLOTE Later that night after the dishes were washed and the garbage taken out, Lucy and the Beck's natural daughter retired to their shared bedroom. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure.
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