She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent. “You look more like your old self when you smile,” he remarked.
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