‘Well, only look what’s come of it. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. Besides, you've secrets which must not be disclosed. Still, her face never betrayed this distraction. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. He classified her as he seated himself. Sure, I lose one occasionally—if he stays in New York. Annabel shines like a star in the darkness, Rosamund queens it a rose, deep rose; But the lady I love is like sunshine in April weather, She gleams and gladdens, she warms—and goes.
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