She held it away from her with an instinctive repulsion, born of her unconquerable antipathy to the touch of strangers. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. Sweet sixteen year old Shari, who never once figured out the morning sleep hangovers she suffered monthly. It was free of leering men, unthinkable punishments, and human evil. And how could I come home—when he locks me in rooms and all that?” “I do wish this wasn’t going on,” said Miss Stanley, after a pause.
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