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| Perhaps, after all, romance... | Perhaps, after all, romance did not come into oneâs life with pomp and blare, like a gay knight riding down; perhaps it crept to oneâs side like an old friend through quiet ways; perhaps it revealed itself in seeming prose, until some sudden shaft of illumination flung athwart its pages betrayed the rhythm and the music, perhaps . . . perhaps . . . love unfolded naturally out of a beautiful friendship, as a golden-hearted rose slipping from its green sheath. Copy Copy Perhaps, after all, romance did⦠copied to clipboard |
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