Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. His arm fell to his side. But once I started, Forever Fifteen seemed to fly out of me like a bat out of Hell, virtually writing itself. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. You fell in at once with her quixotic and damnable scheme of foisting her reputation and her follies upon your shoulders whilst she marries a rich man and commences all over again a life of selfish pleasure.
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