You promise me you’ll never grow old, you hear?” “I promise. The unfortunate woman was stretched upon the floor, with a bloody knife in her hand. She turned her cheek to the cold sill; and by and by the sill grew warm and wet with tears. Gerald lost his head. Let us be friends—as near and close as friends can be. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. She was watching him intently. Be on your guard. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.
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