We’ll go. . \" Lucy grinned, thinking of the dark gamey odors she had smelled emanating from a few of the less hygienic boys in school. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around. ” “Much better,” she agreed.
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