’ He smiled down at her. Miching Mallecho IX. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. Taking the direction pointed out, he rode off. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. “Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself.
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