” He looked at her intensely, his dark eyes deepened with sleeplessness. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. She gulped for air merely, for it had been difficult to breathe with his hand almost cutting off the supply to her lungs. Stanley poured wine. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments. Time was moving so fast, she could no longer count the days since Gosse had come to her with his preposterous suggestion at the Coq d’Or, where they were staying and where he had robbed her and left her and Martha to their fate.
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