See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. 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. She entered the room in the shadows. I had been about as foolish and selfish as a girl could be. I want you.
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