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“I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. She listened, her suspicions confirmed. Gerald looked at it, then at her face. Above her head was an aura of white fire. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. As he moved about upon the starling, Mr. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. Everything was blurred. It ought never to have begun.
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