"Not the sort of stories young ladies should read. He had no ideas about daughters. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath. He arrived at 6:29 sharp on the night of the Junior Prom. You’re not to go. “What’s that young lady’s name—girl in dark brown, stranger here?” Mr. "I do," replied Sheppard.
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