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Updated: May 26, 2025
Once alone in the room, Hildreth, to my consternation, could talk of nothing else but Penton. " to think that he would do such a thing to me, only to think of it!" she cried vehemently, again and again. "If he believes in freedom for men and women, why was all this necessary? the sordidness of the public clamour? the divorce court?... oh, my poor, dear, sweet, wild poet-boy, you're in for it!
I waited till the melody was at an end before I knocked. A small, pale-faced, pretty little woman answered. "Does Mr. Jarvis Mackworth live here?" "Yes. Come in. We have been expecting you. You are the poet, aren't you?" "Yes, I am the poet." "You're a good walker ... we didn't expect you before Monday or Tuesday.... Jarvis, here's the poet-boy from the university."
It was a dream that had hovered over the poet-boy in the morning twilight, a dream he had often wished to recall, a dream that had haunted him in the noon-day, but had, as all boyish visions ever have done, left the heart unexhausted, and the passions unconsumed!
It was a dream that had hovered over the poet-boy in the morning twilight, a dream he had often wished to recall, a dream that had haunted him in the noon-day, but had, as all boyish visions ever have done, left the heart unexhausted, and the passions unconsumed!
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