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"Mrs. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. “What do you think of that farce?” he exclaimed bitterly. " "What did I forget?" "The breathless days and the faded, pitiless sky. He will not come. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. “Was I that bad?” He asked. Promise me one thing before I leave you. They would be partners only in loneliness. "Trenchard," he muttered; "Aliva Trenchard—they were right, then, as to the name. Then she sang. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. ‘But then again, possibly not.
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