You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. . Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. “Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window.
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