They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. ” She laughed heartily, and became as suddenly grave. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. Advancing to the middle of the chamber, he halted, drew himself up, and fixed his dark, expressive eyes, on Thames Darrell. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. The day is already half over. “Is Coke okay?” He asked as he pulled into the gas station.
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