Gay, I've been in many odd quarters of our city—have visited haunts frequented only by thieves—the Old Mint, the New Mint, the worst part of St. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. My own impression is that he already knows.
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