" Finding it useless to struggle further, Mr. William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. " CHAPTER V. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. She felt this was the sensible way out of this oddly sinister situation. The third item she took with a trembling hand by its waistbelt.
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