” “No,” she cried, “I will not. “You see,” he said, “from my point of view you’re grown up— you’re as old as all the goddesses and the contemporary of any man alive. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. He even hugged her a few times, something he had never done. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. CHAPTER XXVI.
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