And now her father said she must not go. Take me with you. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. “It was very tiring. The storm burst upon them in its fury. Third period was Art, where they sat side by side at a table and carved linoleum for block prints together. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. You did not find him, but did you find his pistol? In the room beyond the bookroom there—a big room where a table had fallen. He turned me so that he could have a companion in his loneliness. It was a haunted place.
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