"Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. Upon my word—you are Miss Pellissier, aren’t you?” “I certainly am,” she admitted. He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils.
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