Love is a great thing, and happiness a joy. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. ” He looked at her gravely. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. The evenings were beginning to draw out, and it would not be dark for an hour. " "I shouldn't call her queer.
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