I was walking very sadly across the Green Park one day, my hat pressed over my eyes, not looking to right or left, but sauntering slowly along, depressed and heavy-hearted, when I felt a friendly arm slip softly within my own, while a friendly voice said,--“I think I have got something to suit you, for a few months at least. Don't you know Italian?” “In a fashion, I may say I do. I can read the small poets, and chat a little. I'll not say much more about my knowledge.”…
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