The chapel was crowded to excess. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless. She took refuge in beating her pillow and inventing insulting epithets for herself. The hangman is always an object of peculiar detestation to the mob, a tremendous hooting hailed his appearance, and both staves and swords were required to preserve order. But I proved it to them! Oh yeah, I told John, but I don’t think he believes me either. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. E. Winifred screamed. “Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill.
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