Many’s the young ’un I’ve seen get hisself into just such a knuckleheaded mess all on account of a pretty wench. " "Both are dead," observed the knight, gloomily. She warmed to him fast, her anger was much harder to carry than the pleasant everyday neutrality of affection. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips.
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