When she came to school on Friday, she almost tripped twice going up the stairs. I—well, I lost my temper. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. I understand. ‘And then vanished into thin air,’ rejoined Hilary on a sardonic note. He must know she’ll be at a convent. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. His name was Peter.
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