You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ’ For the space of half a minute, Gerald continued to scowl in silent frustration. " "But I never can forget it, Winny. She knew it. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. They always get back together. He looked at Hilary and nodded.
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