The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. "Write as follows," continued Jack. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. He’ll survive. White said. ” She thought of her father, and with an effort dismissed him from her mind. She bought her Greyhound ticket one steamy afternoon when school let out at eleven thirty A. Now the pig knew where to find her—for it would not take long for a Catholic to locate the convent in Golden Square—even if she escaped him here.
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