"He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. “Let me think,” said Ann Veronica. . Say I will come to him. ” Her father’s irony deepened. Even on cool days the gardens were colorful and bright, with orange trees emanating sweetness and bumblebees drunkenly weaving from flower to flower. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun.
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