Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. ’ ‘I think you understand me very well. "Mother—dear mother!" said Jack, bursting into tears.
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