She could still remember herself at age five, staring knives and daggers at the men who came into the small yarn shop, under pretense of business but really just to leer. E. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. It was grated and crested with spikes, like that he had just burst open, and thinking it a needless waste of time to force it, he broke off one of the spikes, which he carried with him for further purposes, and then climbed over it. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. You say you love me and want to marry, but those are strong, potent words, words meant to last a lifetime.
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