The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. They walked in silence. You’re the only person I’ve really given good, straight, unselfish thought to. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. Wood wound it up by a description of the drenching he had undergone at the Mint pump, the other could hold out no longer, but, leaning back in his chair, gave free scope to his merriment. ‘When you say it like this, certainly it appears absurd. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. Can I be of any assistance? I can assure you that it would give me very much pleasure.
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