Miss Pigot, her face twisted into an ugly expression, points her finger at Miss Smail. “Mr. Gillan, remove that woman immediately,” she shrieks. “There will be no Prize Distribution while that woman is here.”
I’ve never seen Miss Pigot look this way, with a red face and sheer fury in her expression. I didn’t think her capable of such anger. Miss Smail shrinks against the gatepost.
Mr. Gillan stands bewildered. “Whatever’s the matter?”
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