“It’s just that he doesn’t seem like your type. ” One Friday, as she was sitting in the fifth row two seats left of center in Sixth Period Study Hall, a dull hard object thudded against the back of her head. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. For most of a long and fluctuating night she was fairly confident that she would find work; she knew herself to be strong, intelligent, and capable by the standards of most of the girls she knew.
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