Chapter IX BRENDON’S LUCK Anna sat in a chair in her room and sighed. She felt as if she had struck them unawares. His countenance was almost as white and rigid as that of the corpse by his side. She found a clean sweatshirt and soft pajama pants, glad to trade the wet for the dry. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. . Neither you nor your mother shall escape me.
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