She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. Now if you are ready to go with me, I too am ready. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. For the young, immortality must seem promising, even wonderful! The grass is always greener on the other side. “I am developing ailments,” she said, meeting his questioning eyes. ” She stared hard at her finger-nails. The door to the library burst open.
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