E. It was time to leave America. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. The last few months had not dealt kindly with Mr. ’ ‘No, sister, I know that, but—’ ‘You needn’t tell me. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. No lights were flashing, and a single squad car was not a cause for alert, as sometimes the Becks allowed squads to use their drive to watch for speeders and other reckless drivers. “You needn’t be worried,” she said quietly. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. "Have you sent off the note?" inquired Jack.
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