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Moore, George (George Augustus), 1852-1933

"Memoirs of My Dead Life"


"There will be time for a short drive before the sun setting. You said
you admired the hills--one day we will go to a hill town. There is a
beautiful one--Florac is the name of it--but we must start early in
the morning. To-day there will be only time to drive as far as the
point you have been admiring all the morning. The road winds through
the rocks, and you want to see the ilex trees."
"My dear, I want to see you."
"Well, you're looking at me. Come, don't be disagreeable."
"Disagreeable, Doris! I never felt more kindly in my life. I'm still
absorbed in the strange piece of luck which has brought us together,
and in such a well-chosen spot; no other would have pleased me as
much."
"Now why do you like the landscape? Tell me."
"I cannot think of the landscape now, Doris: I'm thinking of you, of
what you said just now."
"What did I say?"
"You said--I tried to remember the words at the time, but I have
forgotten them, so many thoughts have passed through my mind
since--you said--how did you word it?--after having suffered as much
as you did, some share of happiness----"
"No, I didn't say that; I said, having sacrificed so much, I thought I
deserved a little happiness."
"So she knew what she was saying," I said to myself.


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