"Then you need no further information from me," rejoined Jackson, sternly. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. She even had books by H. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. She is something different. The horror of those few minutes was still with her.
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