Slowly and ruefully she realized why marriage was so idealized among her generations of those before her. "Well, lad, supposing you read what the editor has to say?" was McClintock's suggestion, when the frolic was over. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. A drunken idea, Ah Cum had called it.
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