\" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. But I should certainly want to be rid of Mr. Jackson, gallantly.
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