Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Have you ever heard the name of Meysey Hill?” “Meysey Hill?” He repeated it after her, and she knew at once from his tone and his quick glance into her face that the name possessed some significance for him. "Mother, I come to you. He had hurt her. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. But for a long time, anyhow, we lovers have to be as if we were no more than friends. She was caught by some of the bystanders, who offered by her every assistance in their power. It had been discussed in silence.
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