Simply. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. “He is not—I don’t like him. Given time and the right environment, and he would outgrow these defects. ” Her breath left her for a moment. Traps, set with peculiar cunning; she had encountered them everywhere. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. She hoped to turn him off with the mention of Study Halls and detentions, as there were no such animals in 204 Martin’s world of high pressure academics.
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