It was not without considerable demur and delay on the part of Sharples that the carpenter and his companion could gain admittance to the round-house. He cherished her. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. Then he could hear Hilary breathing beside him, and from outside the muted twittering of birds. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things.
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