” He put his hands on her shoulders and lowered her onto the flat surface of the picnic bench. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. It towered up high above the level of the pass, thousands of feet, still, shining, and white, and below, thousands of feet below, was a floor of little woolly clouds. Love stories! It was of negligible importance that these books were bound in paper; Romance lay unalterably within. Have you got someone in mind for me?" "Finish your breakfast and I'll tell you the story. This last operation was so fatiguing, that for a short time he was obliged to pause to recover the use of his fingers. She moved towards it slowly and picked it up, holding it out in front of her whilst the familiar perfume seemed to assert itself with damning insistence. This manoeuvre was so suddenly executed that it took Abraham completely by surprise.
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