She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. ” “I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. Finally she fell into reflection. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. Jack Kimble. ‘Come along.
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