Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. Jack's mouth was coarse and large; Darrell's small and exquisitely carved, with the short, proud upper lip, which belongs to the highest order of beauty. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. " "En-shad-ay. “Who tied this scarf here?” he asked, looking up. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. ” “YOU know,” said Ann Veronica. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire.
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