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Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. " "Uh-huh. ’ ‘Je m’en moque. Then to the Dean's Head, in St. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. She found it extremely difficult to infuse an air of quiet correctitude into her return through the window, and when she was safely inside she waved clinched fists and executed a noiseless dance of rage. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter.
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