. ’ She shook her head. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. "We work together no more. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www. ‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that.
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