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“You needs an ’ole world of friends and playfellows,” said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, wiggling his long tongue.

I knew that with his lively ways, he would make a fine playfellow.

My playfellows, running riot in the oasis, their laughter ringing like bells.

Meanwhile the quiet young French-woman, smiling affectionately at those playfellows as they went off together, sat down on a chair we offered her, and frankly entered into conversation.

For thirty years he was my instructor, my playfellow, almost my daily companion.