It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. She wished she had not stood up. ” Chapter XIX “THIS IS NOT THE END” “I said some afternoon,” she remarked, throwing open her warm coat, and taking off her gloves, “but I certainly did not mean to-day. Well, you shall know.
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