YOU SAID: WE SHALL BELONG TO EACH OTHER IN SPRING, UNDER THAT FAMILIAR BOUGH, THAT WELL-PROTECTED MOSS-COVERED SPOT, AT THAT HOUR OF THE DAY, UNDER THOSE SKIES WITH THE SAME BIRD THAT SANG THERE LAST YEAR SINGING AGAIN. BUT SPRING CAME LATE, AND THE COOL AIR CALLED FOR A DIFFERENT KIND OF JOY
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