” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. "I can't help thinking of Jack Sheppard's speech to Mr. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again. ” He asked questions and listened to her views for a time. Wood, contemptuously. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed.
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