Shari entered the room in a damp towel, fresh from the shower. “Shit happens, John. I’ll see you Seventh Period!” She said, quickly ducking into the English Room. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. ‘I don’t know that I dare.
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