Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. He's going to ask you to Prom. She did not see the metal pole swing toward the back of her skull, nor did she feel her own blood spoiling her light hair after the dull crack of metal broke her flesh.
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