I don’t care. When a mere child she fixed her affections upon a youth named Thames Darrell, whom her father brought up, and who perished, it is supposed, about nine years ago; and she has determined to remain faithful to his memory. She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. . I decided to go in and wait. And yet—Wait a little, you’d better have every bit of it. They walked side by side for a time. She had in her suitcase a small scrapbook, only a few pages, what little information she had gathered on him through the years.
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