” He too rose. She let out a delighted laugh. Stanley took the letter and stood with it in his hand thoughtfully for a time. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. My only love is for my poor lost son. Her aunt went off at a tangent.
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