“Girls. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. Wherever I saw him, I should pick him out as a man designed by nature to plan and accomplish the wonderful escapes he has effected. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. Her canines had receded, but were still 166 prominent. I wonder if he really wants me to go home. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble.
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