If my Mom found out, she’d kill me. Wood, at the top of her voice. Miss Mary and me, and Martha too sometimes. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him. Capes?” she heard her aunt saying. "You can no longer refuse to tell me the name of this youth's father, Aliva," he said. 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.
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