"What for?" demanded Wood. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. It was the only way to make the monthly bills. "When you're older, you'll know that secrets of importance are not disclosed gratuitously. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. His body had been maimed many times. It was a society column about the richest men in the world and their lavish parties. ‘May I, indeed? I’ll take you up on that.
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