“He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. \"Did you girls finish your homework?\" Cathy's head appeared in the open door. So I come round the other way and—Lordy, miss, I’m that sorry I made a mull of it. Cathy answered the phone. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. "Somebody ought to get hold of that young man," said Prudence, grimly, as she nodded in Spurlock's direction. But I've stacks of books and a grand piano-player. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. It is not every sort of creature needs—these males.
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