" "I'll go with you," said Blueskin. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. "And now, I've one further request," faltered Jack; "though I scarcely know how to make it. Blackness was beginning to consume the cornfield. Besides, the sun had gone in and it looked like rain. The major will not call. There would be no moon.
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