\"Want your pencil back?\" She asked him warily, squinting. “Do you know, I have been wondering what had become of you,” she said. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was. Close upon this came another thought. Wood was scarcely seated before Mr. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat.
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