And then she came out into the street, sure only of one thing—that she could not return directly to her lodgings. “My father’s sisters used once to live in the old manor house. But was it Faith? That is what she was this day going to find out. All right! I’m off. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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