She stared at his pleading face. On the floor was a handkerchief, a little morsel of lace. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. Even if he were an old friend, you couldn't afford to do it. He glanced up at the coachman. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world.
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