Sebastian traveled at seventy, eighty, then one-hundred down the freeway. But this plan (probably from its danger) was instantly abandoned; not, however, before her momentary hesitation had been taken advantage of by her pursuers, who, redoubling their efforts at this juncture, materially lessened the distance between them. We went our ways. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek.
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