Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. ” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it. “John?” He turned around in the recliner. Within forty-eight hours the girl would be on her way east and the boy see-sawing the South China Sea, for ever moving at absolute angles. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song.
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