” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. ‘She wormed it out of me, the little fiend. He nodded silently, too full for words. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion. She even had books by H. It dealt with fine aspects of Mr. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant.
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