It was obviously pitched well, hitting her head at a good thirtyfive miles per hour. She could feel teenage girls from all corners of the room tensing, preparing to shriek. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. The tropical dawn is swift. It had been easy to steal.
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