She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. Take my child to—it is—oh God!—I am sinking—take it—take it!" "Where?" shouted Wood. “Because I hate you!” She spat. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Mike was showing his territorial instincts, brought out by the fact that he was drunk. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage.
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