just furtive meetings. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. One must get them with exactly the same intensity. You must know that. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. "You've ruined my hopes. Her desires were not for riches.
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