"Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. Even her own history teacher, Mr. Uttering a faint scream, she sank backwards, and would have fallen, if it had not been for the interposition of Blueskin, who, at that moment, staggered into the room with a candle in one hand, and the bottle in the other.
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