‘The general himself?’ ‘How shall I get my inheritance if the general will believe that pig?’ ‘Do wish you wouldn’t keep on calling him a pig,’ Martha begged. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. I love him as a brother. It was astonishing how often this picture returned: cold rosy apples and flurries of snow. There would be no moon.
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