“You shall,” she said. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position. It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather.
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