Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. I could never have talked to you like this, forgetting everything that parts us, forgetting even your age, if I did not love you utterly. " "Go on, tell me," he urged, enchanted. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. Nothing is wrong that you do. ‘Don’t lose your temper again. ” She said quietly. “I shall never be able to thank you.
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