“You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. “John,” she declared, “I must eat or die. He knew what he knew. By this time, the procession had reached the west end of the wall of St. " "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. She could not help devouring him a little with her eyes across the Burger King booth, handsome shoulders visibly solid underneath his ridiculous polo shirt, his eyes all sweetness and light.
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