By the side of her plate was a small key. " "And never should again, were he mine," rejoined Jonathan. I wish she wouldn’t look like that at us over her glasses. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire.
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