Sheila wouldn’t allow me to date a boy even if he was only fifteen—I mean sixteen, like I am, you see. "What is this!" cried Sir Rowland. Ann Veronica felt suddenly an effect of tremendous pathos; she would have given anything to have been able to frame and make some appeal, some utterance that should bridge this bottomless chasm that had opened between her and her father, and she could find nothing whatever to say that was in the least sincere and appealing. "But to drag this innocent child into the muck! With her head full of book nonsense—love stories and fairy stories! Have you any idea of the tragedy she is bound to stumble upon some day? I don't care about you. You will go out at once, if you please.
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