He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. They were his friends, and they recognized his unusual earnestness. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. He seemed years younger, and the arrangement of his tie and hair were almost rakish.
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