She was a merry creature, it is true, and quite beautiful. Who says that I am not Meysey Hill? I was trying to scare you. . ” They loitered under trees, they sat on mossy banks they gossiped on friendly benches, they came back to lunch at the “Star and Garter,” and talked their afternoon away in the garden that looks out upon the crescent of the river. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. I was—I was a corespondent.
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