We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. ” She glanced out of the window, and the distant trees were a froth of hard spring green and almond blossom.
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