207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. He called a waiter. I spent many happy days there. The walls of the room were lined with shelves, on which were glass jars, retorts, countless bottles and many appliances of surgical science. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. You couldn’t help it. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. "You're only twenty—not legally of age.
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