A MIDSUMMER KNIGHT’S DREAM
when you said you would be my true knight . . . fifteen years ago, dear, just think! . . . have always been that to me . . . ever and ever,
Mary.
The man who said he thought New York the finest summer resort in the country dropped into a café on his way home and had a glass of beer under an electric fan.
“Wonder what kind of a fly old Harding used,” he said to himself.
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