"Mine died while I was over here. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. I've left mine on the spikes of the New Prison, and must borrow yours. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life. '" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. She felt surges of longing escape every corner of her flesh.
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