“There ought to be a Censorship of Books. What an adventure! Of course, you'll bark your shins here and there and hit your funnybone; but the newness of everything will be something of a compensation. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. . " "Prolonging the misery. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. She had begun alone. “You MUST,” he said, “because of my depression. I had no idea!” She sat down abruptly and threw her wrists limply upon the table. ’ ‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’ ‘Imbecile.
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