That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. Rot, no doubt; but we can’t alter it. “I want my life to be beaten gold just in order to make it a fitting setting for yours. Sheila was often a terror to her husband Mark, who seemed afraid of her. You want me to be clean. Byby.
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