Part 3 For a time they walked in silence through the back streets that lead southward from the College. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you.
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