” She saw him there the next week at the same time. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. " "Do not speak of it," rejoined Thames, with a look of horror. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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