He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. 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. ‘I believe that. ’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle.
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