“At the Tredgold Women’s College,” said Ann Veronica. T’weren’t fitting, we knew that. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. ‘I do not know. Quilt was not long in following his example.
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