Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. "To-night it is their turn," said Jonathan, binding up his wounded fingers with a handkerchief. Jack attacked Jonathan with such fury, that he drove him into a shrubbery, and might perhaps have come off the victor, if his foot had not slipped as he made a desperate lunge. He was always one step ahead of the curve, and he had found the right girls would always rat on a ringleader when their own academic records or passage to top rated colleges were at stake.
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