A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. He stopped short with a little exclamation of surprise. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. ” The conversation hung.
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