The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. " "Won't you take me?" "No; you must await my return here. " "And have her warn my father! No. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Pole coolies came joggling along with bobbing blocks of jade—white jade, splashed and veined with translucent emerald green.
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