If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. "Harkye, Sir," rejoined Darrell; "one word before I move. Jack was not half your age when he died. She felt herself shaking again. “Have you heard things?” The tears stood in her eyes. I want to shout! I want to sing! I am glad! I am glad to be alive because you are alive! I am glad to be a woman because you are a man! I am glad! I am glad! I am glad! I thank God for life and you.
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