She marvelled at his apparent imperviousness to the heat. Her target was a fifty-four year old man who lived with his mother, an obese neighborhood woman, a widow named Dawn Plote. “Well?” she said. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. "What for?" demanded Wood. ” She replied. She did not enter the cabin at once, but paused on the threshold and stared at the silent, recumbent figure in the bunk.
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