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"Now,Idowantyoutomakeagoodimpression,fiance-wise.Itisvitalthatafuturespousemakesagoodimpression."Andthenherfacecreased,andshehuggedhimforamoment,andsaid,"Oh,Richard.Idoloveyou.Youdoknowthat,don’tyou?"
AndRichardnodded,andhedid.
Jessicacheckedherwatchandincreasedherpace.Richarddiscreetlyflickedapoundcoinbackthroughtheairtowardthemaninthedoorway,whocaughtitinonegrimyhand.
"Therewasn’tanyproblemwiththereservations,wasthere?"askedJessica.AndRichard,whowasnotmuchgoodatlyingwhenfacedwithadirectquestion,said,"Ah."
Shehadchosenwrongly—thecorridorendedinablankwall.Normallythatwouldhardlyhavegivenherpause,butshewassotired,sohungry,insomuchpain...Sheleanedagainstthewall,feelingthebrick’sroughnessagainstherface.Shewasgulpingbreath,hiccupingandsobbing.Herarmwascold,andherlefthandwasnumb.Shecouldgonofarther,andtheworldwasbeginningtofeelverydistant.Shewantedtostop,toliedown,andtosleepforahundredyears.
"Oh,blessmylittleblacksoul,MisterVandemar,doyouseewhatIsee?"Thevoicewassoft,close:theymusthavebeennearertoherthanshehadimagined."Ispy,withmylittleeye,somethingthat’sgoingtobe—"
"Deadinaminute,MisterCroup,"saidtheflatvoice,fromaboveher.
"Ourprincipalwillbedelighted."
