Topsy Tiddles was not anybody. She was not wrought in flesh and blood, but existed as a boat exists in fog… there, but hidden. It came with fearful ardent rushing, this idea of Small’s that she must say things, but she did not know how to. I don’t mean…

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At the back of our old home garden were two giant squares of orchard, one of pear, one of cherry trees, each square as big as a city lot. Between was a long, long asparagus bed, and there was spare land flanked by a gravel walk. This spare strip…

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