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Smith obeyed. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. And we are not traders looking at equivalents. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. 175 “Before you tell me the whole story,” she emphasized the penultimate word, “just let me do something for you.

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