Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. They went first to a hotel, and then out again on to the boulevards. “But you’re wrong. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see.
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