” “Well?” “Sir John came to me—that you know—and you can guess what I told him. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. She had one idea, she found, very clear in her mind—that she would get a Research Scholarship, and so contrive another year in the laboratory. The tears flowed faster. There were moments when Ann Veronica rather more than suspected the chief speakers to be, as school-boys say, showing off at her. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. He murmured his delight, and joined the bridge party, where he played with less than his accustomed skill.
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