truelove

But the real Hynde Horn in the dear old ballad had a truelove who was not captious and capricious and cold like Francesca.

Across the clouds ran so fierce a line of gold that Truelove, startled, put her hand before her eyes.

He turned upon the doorstep, and taking between his fingers the hem of Truelove's apron fell to plaiting it.

Truelove seated herself upon a convenient stool, and lifted her gray skirt an inch above a slender ankle.

Truelove drew back, her cheeks very pink, and the dimples quite uncertain whether to go or stay.