We aren’t worth it. And most of the others she had met had, she felt, the same steadfastness. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. She began rubbing it with her pocket-handkerchief. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. To vault over the pews was the work of a moment; and having gained the entry leading to the Red Room he passed through the first door; his progress being only impeded by the pile of broken stones, which he himself had raised. Eluding the blow, Jack plucked his sword from the scabbard, and a desperate conflict began.
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