" The manager began some computations. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. ‘What a catalogue. He pulled rein at the sight of her, saluted, and regarded her with his rather too protuberant eyes. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school.
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