She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. I guess we could go for a ride. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. "Let me go," cried Winifred. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes.
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