133 “TRY ME!” He yelled, his voice booming into the cacophony beyond the walls. The bleach had ruined it, with yellow-orange streaks invading the frizzy white that cascaded in wavy tendrils coated with greasy hairspray. It was on the night of the Great Storm that I found him. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. ” Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. .
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