You can pay me when we return. We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. “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. I change them in the morning at Cannon Street, and take my book as I come down.
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