"I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. “Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. Do you remember when we went right away, Nigel, and forgot everything? We went down the river past Veraz, and the larks were singing all over those deep brown fields, and the river further on wound its way like a coil of silver across the rich meadowland, and along the hillside vineyards. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. That might happen on her birthday—in August.
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