’ Gerald grinned. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. But what a monster was this Emile. I still have a cross stitch she made for me of a little fairy sitting on a daffodil. " "Nor I," returned Ireton, following his example: "and I've had some experience too. And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill.
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