“He seems like such a nice boy. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. "You know not what you do. Jack is registered in the Black Book. The hand that had been clenched lay open, relaxed; and upon the palm he saw her mother's locket. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. " He shook his head. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain.
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