"Farewell!" cried Jack, breaking from them, and rushing down the street. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. It probably still wouldn’t help. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. She bent down. ’ ‘Oh, don’t I? What do you have under all those petticoats, a holster?’ ‘But yes, and they are empty.
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