She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. Plote was sleeping or deaf. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. ’ ‘So that was it. ” “Do you think that it was wise of you, or kind to come?” she asked quietly. My arm's nearly well again.
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