“Can’t you believe me? I am Meysey Hill. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. “I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. “I don’t see there’s any getting away from the fact that you and I love each other,” he said, slowly. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. He's coming. “We have a small studio,” she murmured, “in the Rue de St.
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