She started forward. “You are their friend, then?” “I am,” Courtlaw answered. I do not wish to blow off a head, you understand. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. At last—I told a story. ’ Joan nodded, her face still averted. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube. .
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