‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years. She kept her face downcast. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. It is no good. Then she would be dead, and that was no use.
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