\"I'll have to ask Cathy, you know my foster mother? I have not been asked on a date before. If he could keep it up—style and calibre of imagination—within a year the name of Taber would become widely known. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. She had thought to wear it now, since she must look more the demoiselle.
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