’ ‘Don’t talk soft,’ begged Martha. Never had her father explained. “Please let me drive you home. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. “How old are you?\" He looked at her engagingly. ” “But I say, Vee,” said Constance, “if you come and you are forbidden to come there’ll be the deuce of a row.
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