"Why did I want it under my pillow?" he asked. " "I'll not forget it. ” One Friday, as she was sitting in the fifth row two seats left of center in Sixth Period Study Hall, a dull hard object thudded against the back of her head. Its dreariness, like the filthiness of the police cell, was a discovery for her. From time to time the man below would shout, and the boy would let the threads go with the snap of a harpist, only to recover them instantly. Jack turned away with an aching heart.
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