” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. “You are mine, Annabel, and nothing shall ever make me give you up. There he stands. I'll tote it myself. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. “Heavens!” she exclaimed. When night fell, he crept into the town of Tottenham. Only, he'll be an interesting specimen for me to observe. Your uncle—our uncle is with him.
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