She tolerated spitballs in her curly hair and had to buy a new backpack when hers was stolen. Old saltwater was right. It was not an affair of the conscience; it was vaguely based upon insolence and defiance. “Lord!” she said. ‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. “If I didn’t love you better than myself,” said Capes, “I wouldn’t fence like this with you.
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