I’m not a lovesick boy. I—I am a lovesick idiot, and not accountable for my actions. CHAPTER VI. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. He tried to make love to me. Now he thought she was so foolish that she knew only one stroke.
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