“Of course, I remember now. We shall see. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. It’s the rarest luck, the wildest, most impossible accident.
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