He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor. Spurling, and her now accepted suitor, resumed their seats. She reflected upon that with a thrill of terror that was also, somehow, in some faint remote way, gleeful. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. The Dawn Pearl. He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze.
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