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Shotbolt nodded in token of acquiescence, and emitted an odd guttural sound. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. E. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. "His name, I say!—his name!" thundered the knight. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled.
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