To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. The intruder was handsomely, even richly, attired in a scarlet riding-suit, embroidered with gold; a broad belt, to which a hanger was attached, crossed his shoulders; his boots rose above his knee, and he carried a laced hat in his hand.
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