” “It is you,” he cried, “you, who are talking folly, when you speak of friendship between you and me. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. Spurling and Marvel rose too. “Go on!” she commanded. He looked from the sword to the dagger with which he had brought her down here, and grimaced.
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