I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. He did not pocket it, but sat hefting it lightly from hand to hand, watching the girl thoughtfully. ’ ‘But it was not your fault,’ protested Gosse, shocked. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict. It was horrible, but she must do it. Such an obvious ruse, but the boys and girls would defend their pride to the bitter end, the facade of study groups during rutting season.
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