Its smooth surface soothed her nerves. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. He picked up the remote and sat himself to her right. There was no one else in the doorway.
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