"You shall never behold me alive. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. We shall have a reg'lar squall afore we gets across. . “For me there is no second turn. The summer arrived, speeding the Plague and with it the famine in the streets.
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