’ ‘The horse?’ echoed Melusine. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. \"I don't eat lunch. Mercifully, John had been sick for two of the three days of Thanksgiving week, giving her reprieve from both his presence and the machinations of Katy Pfister, who was always less active on days when he was not around.
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