E. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. Her eyes fell, and then sought his again with timid interest. Tum, tum, tirray, tum, tum, tum, te-tum—that thing of Mendelssohn’s! If making one human being absolutely happy is any satisfaction to you—” He held out his hands, and she also stood up. I’ve had the rarest luck and fallen on my feet.
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