It was Celeste’s idea. ” “In the Middle Ages, from what you’re telling me. Sheila, a normally sound sleeper, woke one night to find both her husband and her foster daughter had snuck from their beds, and this infuriated her. What else could he do? You can’t kick up a scene on the spur of the moment in the face of such conflicting values as he had before him. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful. She spied him sitting on his armless black couch, his feet splayed as he stared at his television blankly.
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