CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. It was dusty, with dirty clothing strewn about, a cracked basin thick with grime on the rickety dresser, and a film of grease on the leaded casement. “Where are they?” She looked around. “We’ll go together.
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