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 'Oh, aren't you going to take a bath?' her mother inquired.

'I guess not, after all. It's so late.'

Sheilah's mother sighed. Sheilah in her bath was beautiful. Like a magnolia blossom that blooms in the early spring, before there is any foliage to cover its white nakedness. Every curve and undulation was as firm and staunch as the upstanding petals of the young flower, and the surface of her as soft and satiny. Ever since she was a baby Mrs. Miller had loved to see Sheilah in her bath. Ever since she was a baby Sheilah hadn't minded. Until lately. Lately her mother's admiring gaze was torture to Sheilah.