Article Title

Armistice Day

Abstract

From the nursery warmth of Miss Martin's infant room, tender as young geraniums flowering behind glass, we spied on the senior school. In the mornings there was an austere silence about that red· brick building. Sometimes a figure of a big boy or girl sped out of a door and marched, frowning responsibly, in the direction of the school toilets, hidden behind the macrocarpa hedge.

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