“Martin Chen!” Michelle shouted his name in an outburst, like an invocation. Wild," edged in Quilt. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Perhaps an hour later he would begin again. Lucy sat in the back seat as the trio sped through intersections in the old sedan.
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