Well, while we were smoking our pipes, and quaffing our punch, Alsatia turns to me and says, 'Mint,' says he, 'you're well off here. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. β βItβs gone. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. β He stood still, looking at her.
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