"What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. After what seemed like an eternity he turned right onto a dirt road that ended unceremoniously at a copse of leafless trees. God, how old are they now? They must be teenagers. Aware of Quilt Arnold's mode of proceeding, Jack instantly dismounted, and, instead of knocking, opened the door with the pass-key. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip.
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