FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. "I have him!" cried a voice in triumph. Recurrently she heard: "I don't know; I really don't know. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. He’s waiting. "You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. Wood's astonishment and displeasure momentarily increased. You’re all such good cooks. “Not to-night,” she said.
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