His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. One day I can be a Gothic chick, and the next day I’ll be Hitler Youth. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. ‘You were right, miss.
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