" "Not at fisticuffs, perhaps," interrupted Jack, fiercely; "but I've my knife. It plucked shingles from the school building, threatening to shake them all loose one by one like rotting teeth. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor. “I am sure,” she said, “that you mean to stay until you are turned out. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily.
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