” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. The gardens were tidy and geometric, each avenue with a different purpose: flowers for cutting, herbs, brightly colored vegetables. ’ ‘It was so,’ said Valade, becoming a trifle more fluent. I consider even now that the present colour is far less becoming. Thanks. “They have no plans for us. I hold a warrant from Mr. ” “I am not sure whether I feel inclined to scold or thank you,” she declared. She will not confide in me. "He has passed this way," cried Jonathan, exultingly; "I have him safe enough. “A serious question. ’ His features relaxed again and he grinned. ” “It is hard to be distant from your own mother. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year.
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