’ Gerald frowned. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. . No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck.
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