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Once away from Kew, and my old spirits reasserted themselves. As we rolled away from Euston to Liverpool's only and original Lime Street, I was as happy as—I was going to say—a newly made bride, but, alas, that hackneyed simile has no meaning for me. Every old corn field we passed delighted me; I made Arthur buy me illustrated papers and fruit at every station, and nearly caused him to miss the train at one halting place because in my insatiable desire for chocolate I sent him forth to the refreshment room.

Arthur was at first inclined to be subdued, as I suppose it was proper he should be, but I soon thwarted his intentions. I was determined that we would both of us forget the past, and start out afresh. I would be as engaging as a maiden yet to be wooed, and he,—well, he should woo me. I was resolved that I would not be wifely. I would consider that we were simply on good