If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. On this side a flight of wooden steps, protected by a hand-rail, led to a door opening upon the summit of the prison. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. He turned, and beheld Winifred. I have given up painting. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. 181 < 22 > MICHELLE’S STORY The week at school was mostly uneventful save Michelle’s enthusiasm and constant ploys for attention.
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