” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. Single pearls— Lord knows where they come from!—are always turning up, some of them of fine lustre; but I never set eyes on them. Poor little one.
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