They sat on a wooden bench that overlooked the less aromatic part of the lake, deeper and not as frequented by geese. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us. You know the sort of thing. '—'They can't,' says I. "I'll be back in a minute. ” “I am your friend,” he said slowly, “whatever you may have to tell me. ‘How could I know that it is you?’ She peered at him in the darkness. I think you are hard.
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