She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. I don’t mind it. You’ll never even see me again, for that 268 matter. Byby. Practically. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. I’m off to England. I owed his father a grudge: that I settled long ago.
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