She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. Manning.
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