His red hair marked him, cut short into a round shape that had the texture of a Brillo pad. He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. The carpet was a quiet drugget and not excessively worn, and the bed in the corner was covered by a white quilt. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. ’ He moved to his friend and grasped his hand in a gesture as deliberately dramatic as the storytelling of mademoiselle. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. Prudence? Mr Remenham’s sister that was. Want to walk home today? Lucy slipped the paper into her English textbook. The women, Ann Veronica thought, were not quite so interesting as the men.
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