It just made me mad to the boiling point. ‘Well, that depends. The cold air gave her gooseflesh under her red brocade dress as she slipped outside. Sara Darnell was a sprightly, svelte twenty-five year old who was known for serving detentions at meter maid frequency, if only to be taken marginally more seriously by the predominantly male Lincoln High Science Department. She made herself a private declaration of liberty. It isn’t sentiment but it’s horse sense. “I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. ” “You forget,” she said, looking up at him with a faint smile, “that under the cloak of her name I am earning more money a week than I could ever have earned in a year by my own labours.
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