“I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. “You yourself have decided that—apart from the question of Annabel. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. An unhappy little sigh escaped her. They'll be back soon enough—or not at all.
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