” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. ‘Perhaps she don’t understand English,’ suggested Roding. Stay where you are, Mr. In the adjacent apartment Ann Veronica found a middle-aged woman with a tired face under the tired hat she wore, sitting at a desk opening letters while a dusky, untidy girl of eight-or nine-and-twenty hammered industriously at a typewriter. V. You may have something to conceal, you may not. \" He paused in awkward silence as they walked outside the red double doors. He was bewildered. She laid her hand upon his arm. The beautiful gowns and the flashing bare shoulders and arms of the women had disturbed and distressed her. I’ve never had a homemade Thanksgiving meal like that. I don’t see that men need bank it with the women. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point.
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