Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. Lucy, would you like to be my date for the silly little dance they call the Junior Prom?\" There was a pregnant pause as she digested the information. “‘Go it, missie,’ they said; “kick aht!’ “I swore at that policeman—and disgusted him. You have actually given up a dinner-party to dine alone with me. Sheppard did not dare to return any answer; but, disengaging herself from his embrace, endeavoured meekly to comply with his request.
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