It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. " "Only three days," reiterated the widow, "three short short days,—and then all is over. Teddy overtook her, a little out of breath, his innocent face flushed, his straw-colored hair disordered. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment.
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