My poor brain is so mixed, dear, I hardly know what I am saying. It’s not far from twilight. He was now a sophomore at Lincoln, Lucy a Junior, and Shari a Senior. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed.
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