’ ‘Where then is your uniform?’ ‘I don’t wear it to balls. “I thank you for your advice,” she said. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. The trio of girls approached the newly laid cement curb, where throngs of young girls in pink lip-gloss fanned and preened like peacocks as rich boys circled round, revving the engines of their father's red cars. 144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally.
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