When John’s parents weren’t home, they made love in his bedroom. “Lady Mackinnor,” she said, “I am sure that you must have heard of Mr. Home!— which I never hoped to see again. It ceased to be the symbol of liberty and a remote and quite abstracted person, and became suddenly and very disagreeably the token of a large and portentous body visible and tangible. I do not admit the truth of a word which you have said. FOREWORD Forever Fifteen was born of a dream I had in 2002, a dream that was part nightmare. She was wearing a becoming tea-gown, and it was quite certain that Sir John would not be home for several hours at least. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. Not a moment is to be lost.
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