” She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly. She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. It belonged to his father, and was worn by him on the night he was murdered. Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes.
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