Left to himself, he took a survey of the room, and his heart leaped as he beheld over the, chimney-piece, a portrait of himself. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. 4. ” For a fraction of a second the two young men hesitated.
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