Another picture slid across her vision. Mr. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. ” “Thank you,” Anna answered coldly. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. It’s a thing I’ve unaccountably overlooked.
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