It was most amusing. The modern parts of the book were inspired by my worldview of high school as pure, unadulterated Hell. Girls who had envied her former position as John’s amour passed no opportunity to utter cryptic remarks as she sat in Study Hall, walked down hallways, or rinsed her hands in the bathroom. "Troth, and so did you," returned the watchman; "but I couldn't belave it. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. 'He that woos a maid',— fol-de-rol—(hiccupping). "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance. ‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this.
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