They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Red apples and snow! How often had these two things entered his thoughts since his wanderings began? Red apples and snow!—and never again to behold them! "I am going out for a little while," she said. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like,’ he repeated blankly. 1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg-tm License.
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