Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. Something like a snarl crossed his face, and ignoring the pistol, he moved forward, seizing her shoulders. Her eyes travelled about the room as if in appeal to the very chairs. I don’t mind it. She was an indignant queen, no doubt she was alarmed and disgusted within limits; but she was highly excited, and there was something, some low adventurous strain in her being, some element, subtle at least if base, going about the rioting ways and crowded insurgent meeting-places of her mind declaring that the whole affair was after all—they are the only words that express it—a very great lark indeed. "Well, I'm not far from the mark. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her.
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