We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. I am not prying for my own amusement. A radiant smile astonished him. Jack was not half your age when he died. He relayed many details of the location and the beautiful rivers of her home, a subject she never tired of. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a yellow-haired young person near the door.
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