In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. “Second class,” said some one, but first and second were all alike to her. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. After all, if one could wait twenty years or more in between bouts of lovemaking, one could certainly wait a few more days.
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