And just back of the lonely stretches of the Dickinson, Skippy fell upon him.
That night Skippy, wise by disillusionment, confided his sorrows to a diary which began as follows:
"What I don't know about women, ain't worth knowing. Resolved; if any loving is going to be done, they can do the loving."
But that of course is still another story. . . .
THE END
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
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