Jackson: "ha! ha!" "Not in the least, Ma'am," echoed Mr. I arranged that he should. Ennison seemed to feel already the shadow of tragedy approaching. Moving back to the corner again, she ran a hand back over the leather-bound books—which, she realised, were not books at all. Two of these had been her particular intimates at the High School, and had done much to send her mind exploring beyond the limits of the available literature at home. To many in that crowded solitude it came as an extraordinary relief. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. Thanks.
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