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Keyes, Frances Parkinson, 1885-1970

"The Old Gray Homestead"

It's been a great thing for me to know
them, especially Emily. She's not a bit pretty, or the sort that a fellow
could get crazy over, or--well, I can't describe it, but you know what I
mean. Every man who meets her must realize what a fine wife she'd make
for somebody, and yet he wouldn't want her himself. But she's a wonderful
friend. Do you know, I never had a woman friend before, or realized that
there could be such a thing--for a man, I mean--unless there was some
sentiment mixed up with it. This isn't the least of the valuable lessons
I've learned.
After lunch to-day, we're going off again--not on foot this time, as it
would take too long to see what we want to that way, but on hired
bicycles. I'm sending my baggage ahead to London to "await arrival," but
if the mild, though rather rainy, weather we've had so far holds, I hope
to have two weeks more of _country_ England before I go there; we have no
definite plans, but expect to go to some of the cathedral towns, and to
Oxford and Warwick at least.


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