” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. She felt terrible lying to him. “It’s a period of crude views and crude work,” said Mr. “It’s my fault. ‘Well, sir, if I’ve to choose betwixt him and you, I’ll take you, no question. I am your husband, though as yet your hand has scarcely lain in mine. ” “It was a mistake,” she faltered.
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