"Fire!—murder—thieves!—I've got one of 'em!" "Come along," cried Jack. She found herself mildly entertained by staring at the houses through the rain as she walked home, all cast in a gray blurry film noir gauze of rain. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. "The danger's past," whispered Bess. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy.
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