I knew where I would go next: Florence. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. Something is feeding upon them. She slipped it calmly into her pocket. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire.
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