“There’s no percentage in doing that,” said Sandy’s mother, overhearing Joan urging Sandy to go to the police. “You can’t let him get away with it,” insisted Joan. Sandy had awakened in the hotel room to the realization that she had been slipped a mickey. The guy was long gone. “First they have to find him,” commented Sandy’s mother cynically, “and then Sandy gets to have her name smeared around the papers. I have told Sandy many times she can’t go hanging around bars like that, dressed the way she always does; they are going to blame her, not him.”
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