He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. By the old regulations, the free use of strong liquors not being interdicted, a tap-house was kept in the Lodge, and also in a cellar on the Common Side,—under the superintendence of Mrs. Nigel, do you know that I have been very jealous?” He avoided the invitation of her eyes. The teacher droned on and on about the mournful funerary love of Romeo and Juliet, a tale she had long since tired of.
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