Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. Somehow her walk home with him had been transmogrified into a melodramatic rejection, a slamming. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. Mr. For nothing will ever convince me that it is not the man’s share in life to shield, to protect, to lead and toil and watch and battle with the world at large.
Video ID: TW96aWxsYS81LjAgQXBwbGVXZWJLaXQvNTM3LjM2IChLSFRNTCwgbGlrZSBHZWNrbzsgY29tcGF0aWJsZTsgQ2xhdWRlQm90LzEuMDsgK2NsYXVkZWJvdEBhbnRocm9waWMuY29tKSAtIDMuMTQ3Ljc5LjI0MSAtIDEwLTA2LTIwMjQgMjA6MTI6MTIgLSAyMDY0NzQ3NzM1
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