"Not proud in the least, I declare. The locket contained the face of her mother—all the family album she had. On the bench was set a quartern measure of gin, a crust of bread, and a slice of cheese. . She could have traded it for gold nuggets and lived like a queen for a few weeks, but she did not. I do swear. ” A little murmur of expectation, an audible silence announced the coming of “Alcide. 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.
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