“I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. ” “He only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued. C below.
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