You must forgive the poet’s license I take. They traveled to distant places, had an apartment in Constantinople and a villa in Paris. “I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. “Julian, I don’t want to get married!” She blinked in 119 disbelief as she saw how hurt he was by her reply. "Hurrah!" shouted he, waving his hat triumphantly over his head. It’s the public entrance. It ought not to be much. Ramage came for her at her lodgings, and she met him graciously and kindly as a queen who knows she must needs give sorrow to a faithful liege.
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