” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. . The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. Miraculously, her schoolmates were so upswept in their own summer planning that they had no time to interrogate her. CHAPTER XIX. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired.
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