When Polly Was Eighteen

· 1938

Polly leaned back against the great oak, her eyes bent on David’s face. She wondered--and wondered hard. If she could only fathom that inscrutable expression! The young man, stretched on the grass among the waving shadows, was gazing across the valley to the hills in their soft afternoon veiling. It was a June picture beautiful enough to hold the attention of any one, yet it was plain that David’s thoughts were not on the landscape.…

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