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           AndJoegotinbesideme,andwedroveawaytogetherintothecountry,wheretherichsummergrowthwasalreadyonthetreesandonthegrass,andsweetsummerscentsfilledalltheair.ThedayhappenedtobeSunday,andwhenIlookedonthelovelinessaroundme,andthoughthowithadgrownandchanged,andhowthelittlewild-flowershadbeenforming,andthevoicesofthebirdshadbeenstrengthening,bydayandbynight,underthesunandunderthestars,whilepoorIlayburningandtossingonmybed,themereremembranceofhavingburnedandtossedtherecamelikeacheckuponmypeace.ButwhenIheardtheSundaybells,andlookedaroundalittlemoreupontheoutspreadbeauty,IfeltthatIwasnotnearlythankfulenoughthatIwastooweakyettobeeventhatandIlaidmyheadonJoe’sshoulder,asIhadlaiditlongagowhenhehadtakenmetotheFairorwherenot,anditwastoomuchformyyoungsenses.

           Morecomposurecametomeafterawhile,andwetalkedasweusedtotalk,lyingonthegrassattheoldBattery.TherewasnochangewhateverinJoe.Exactlywhathehadbeeninmyeyesthen,hewasinmyeyesstill;justassimplyfaithful,andassimplyright.

           Whenwegotbackagain,andheliftedmeout,andcarriedmesoeasily!acrossthecourtandupthestairs,IthoughtofthateventfulChristmasDaywhenhehadcarriedmeoverthemarshes.Wehadnotyetmadeanyallusiontomychangeoffortune,nordidIknowhowmuchofmylatehistoryhewasacquaintedwith.

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Roboto Lora
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