Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Capes agreed with the utmost cordiality. Speak lower. “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. She was a clever girl, the best of her year in the High School, and she made a valiant fight for Somerville or Newnham but her father had met and argued with a Somerville girl at a friend’s dinner-table and he thought that sort of thing unsexed a woman.
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