The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. All they left it was the moon and stars. Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness.
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