” “Your priestess,” whispered Ann Veronica, softly. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. Take it, if I die. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. You know—I wish I could roll my little body up small and squeeze it into your hand and grip your fingers upon it. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop.
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