Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. Gosse sagged under the impact, knocking over the card table, and falling to sit, half stunned, the discharged pistol flying from his slackened grasp. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. ” He stated, trying to maintain his calm.
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