The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. Then the bridge had arched gateways, bristling with spikes, and garnished (as all ancient gateways ought to be) with the heads of traitors. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. " "And you want me to find a minister?" she asked, with ready comprehension.
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