On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “Do you remember the mountains? Do you remember how we loved one another? How intensely we loved one another! Do you remember the light on things and the glory of things? I’m greedy, I’m greedy! I want children like the mountains and life like the sky. Ann Veronica passed from her aunt to her father, and put her arms about him and kissed his cheek. “I would rather put up with your own efforts, however clumsy. Entering the house, he found himself in a narrow passage leading to the back stairs. Then suddenly with a rush came reality, came “growing up”; a hasty imperative appeal for seriousness, for supreme seriousness. " "But warn the aunt, prepare her, if she lives.
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