The boy she had loved was gone. Their idea of maidenly innocence was just a blank white—the sort of flat white that doesn’t shine. He gave her one of the sweaty red cans. Miss Moffatt, the history and moral instruction mistress, was particularly explicit upon this score, and they all agreed in indicating contempt and pity for girls whose minds ran on such matters, and who betrayed it in their conversation or dress or bearing. . . “I’ve been following you for many years.
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