She danced with two others. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. I can’t help you a cent. She entered the front hall, formerly magnificent, now faded and dusty, the old wood table waiting for guests who would never come. Martha had been more to her than that.
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