Once a sick sailor drew three pictures for me and set down every stay and brace and sail—square-rigger, schooner, and sloop. Entranced, he stared at the name. ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. “I was half hoping that I might be allowed to see you home. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. "The plot's out!" cried Jack. She was shifting, moving back. ’ Lucilla frowned. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. This is simply a chapter of coincidences.
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