Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. She looked at her for a moment fixedly. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. ’ ‘But what do you want it for, miss?’ ‘But to protect myself. She turned back into the hall. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. The gale had become a hurricane: that hurricane was the most terrible that ever laid waste our city. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. E. Don't be frightened of her. There was no past, no future, only this exhilarating present. “Miserable bounder,” he murmured.
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