She didn’t choose her man. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. 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. And, dragging Mrs. DeSoto, seemed to notice her thoroughly. He had, however, planned brilliant careers for his two sons, and, with a certain human amount of warping and delay, they were pursuing these.
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