Sheppard looked fixedly at him, as if she would penetrate the gloomy depth of his soul. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. What our dear mother would say back home I dread to think. And then, for the first time, Wood noticed a small stream of blood coursing slowly down her cheek. \"Hi Mark. His course, however, was no longer interrupted, and he crept on. She rang again with the same result.
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