" CHAPTER IV. " "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. She remained standing stiffly, unable even to move. ’ Gerald was relieved to find the girl did not attempt to run away, but meekly allowed him to usher her into the spacious and comfortable library which was his habitual haunt when at home. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner.
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