“Well, rather,” said Ann Veronica. She had been carrying them, he assumed, but then again the school had some particularly talented kids among the usual ruffians. She had lost it. He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. She vanished from the laboratory for a week, a week of oddly interesting days. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself.
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