His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. I must have something in hand. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall. . I feel years younger, a man again. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. It was too good to be true. You can, too, if you wish.
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