" "Oh, that!" she said, with a deprecating gesture. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. ‘Precisely. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. Your mind is still subtly sick. But take a drop of wine," urged he, filling a drinking-horn and presenting it to her; "it's choice canary, and'll do you good. ” She could not go on, for she was laughing and crying at the same time.
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