Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. " So saying, he closed the door. "There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. “And we will sail that splendor wide, From day to day together, From isle to isle of happiness Through year’s of God’s own weather. There was no other door in it, and Jack therefore struck into another entry which branched off to the right.
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