"It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. He looked just as Julian had the night she had first met him outside the Joliet Laundromat. “I’ve got nothing in the world to pack with except a toy size portmanteau.
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