She looked up and said, a little breathlessly, “I’m sorry, aunt, but I don’t think I can. If the boy was legging it alone…. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. elizabethbailey.
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