Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. You are infatuated. Over an old crazy bedstead was thrown a squalid, patchwork counterpane; and upon the counterpane lay a black hood and scarf, a pair of bodice of the cumbrous form in vogue at the beginning of the last century, and some other articles of female attire. Your father is very angry, and will not have her name mentioned in his hearing.
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