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. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. Living’s just material. ’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t involve me in your lover’s tiff. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear.
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