She had better escape if she can. Mike chimed in. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. She felt she was now near her boy, and, nothing doubting her ability to rescue him from his perilous situation, she breathed a fervent prayer for his deliverance; and bending her steps towards the tavern in question, revolved within her mind as she walked along the best means of accomplishing her purpose. Yet he stays. So far he had not stirred; from his bloodless lips had come no sound. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house.
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