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. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment.
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