I’ll protect you!” He cried. 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. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. It felt too good. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest.
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