’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. “Tell me,” she insisted, “why you look like that. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. Her whole conduct and tone had been modest and ladylike.
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