’” She played “If I Were a Rich Man,” adding syrupy trills and flourishes at every phrase. . “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. ” Her hand hung over the side of her chair nearest to him. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. It was after all a momentary affair.
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