“If one half of the stories about Meysey Hill are true,” he answered, “I would not stretch out my little finger to save his life. The way—the way we are led on! We are taught to believe we are free in the world, to think we are queens. ’ Turning, she climbed over the low haha wall. He is here by your side. 207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. He had fallen off when trying to tie down his aluminum paint ladder. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. But in his presence a wall of diffidence and timidity encompassed her. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend.
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