It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. “Okay, Mom. There is scarcely one chance in a dozen of saving his life; there would be none at all if he were moved. “Do YOU go across the Park?” “Not usually. "I could hang him now if I liked. Wood. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. 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. "Shall I take the babby home with me!" persisted Wood, in a tone between jest and earnest.
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