He munched his popcorn steadily, periodically offering it to her, but not his Coke, as that would be too bold, a saliva exchange. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. Sheppard. Michelle’s eyes widened. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. Ireton rushed forward to open the wicket for him.
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