They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded room. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. The end of the world seemed at hand. "The part was crooked," she explained.
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