“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Charcoal, you may bring in the boy. " "Didn't know but what I'd been out-bid. The three of them laughed joyously. "Well, like or not, I'm greatly pleased with it, and must beg it from you as a memorial——" "Of what?" she interrupted, startled by his change of manner. You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise.
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