|Subject:||[Dnarchitect-devel] typewritten poisoning|
|Date:||Mon, 18 Sep 2006 13:40:19 -0000|
Emily threw him a glance of coquetry that very nearly made him kissher. If I ever had been, even though I amold now, I might have held you. What ghost came betweenthe lips that might have met? And yet it is terribly sweet to be free once more. It made Emily feel hopeless, as if the best of lifealready lay in the past. And Mona Lisa willwhisper to you the ageless secret of her smile and you shall put itin a story. The ghosts of things that never happenedare worse than the ghosts of things that did.
She turned to the doorwith a little shiver.
DID she love Dean Priest whom she was going to marry in June?
A small cloud seemed to shape itself within the gazing-ball. This egg will some day be a robin, Star, towhistle us blithely home in the afterlight.
Emily put her hands against the little porch column and laid herhead against them.
Hitherto Emily would have shrunk unspeakablyfrom seeking Mrs. Its lovelier than Ive everdreamed of its being. And cant we arrange to have thespring of Ponce de Leon over in that corner? A broken engagement is a very slightthing nowadays.
And cant we arrange to have thespring of Ponce de Leon over in that corner?
She was a woman before her time,thought Aunt Laura with a sigh. He always slipped up the hill path beside her like agrey shadow dappled with dark.
Our house and we are going to be good friends, agreed Dean.
He dropped his poor grey face in his hands. Emilys a nicer name than Cytherea or Juno, I think. The old creative fire seems tohave burned out into ashes and I cannot rekindle it. The old creative fire seems tohave burned out into ashes and I cannot rekindle it.
Sometimes that question forced itself on Emily, butshe would not answer it. Perhaps this latter fact partly accountsfor my white night.
What a difference between her smile and Mona Lisas, said Dean,looking from one to the other. From somewhere down the dim road behind the spruces came laughter. I am notafraid she will ever tell him what I said. Emily found herselfthinking what a nice, pleasant, friendly thing death would be.
The soul of thathappy last summer would come back to her.
Something strange anduncanny about the silence. Well need a dogto keep your cats in order. Sometimes that question forced itself on Emily, butshe would not answer it.
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