He went on munching his water-chestnuts, and stared at the skyline. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. You care for me a little, I know. I never made any effort to touch them; so by and by they learned to light fearlessly on my arms and shoulders. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. " "Never," said Mrs. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice.
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