There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. ’ ‘Listen. “You told me that your name was Meysey Hill. All I had to do was to piece them together. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. ” She glared at Sebastian over the drawing table where she was sketching in chalk, then over at the fifteen year old boy who was asleep in a disheveled pile of rushes in the corner. One day she awoke and he was cavorting about underneath the covers.
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