Last time— you made me feel snubbed. Before Marthe will become impatient and come out. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. Probably a sick man's whim. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. He rambled in an unfortunate monotone, the result of his innate fear of public speaking. “You could tell me but you’d have to kill me?” He asked with a sardonic grin on his face.
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