\" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. “Because I hate you!” She spat. ” “I’ve been certain of it for years. They might applaud, or object, or interfere, but the drama was her very own. See paragraph 1. There was a gallows erected, and a great mob round it—thousands of people, and all with white faces like corpses. Unless women are never to be free, never to be even respected, there must be a generation of martyrs. Miss Annabel is her sister. ’ The lady stamped her foot. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates.
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