” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. " "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers.
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