Somewhere in the world would be his people, perhaps his mother; and it might soften the bitterness, of the return to consciousness if he found a woman at his bedside. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. I know South America and Canada like the lines in my hand. . I wonder,” he added, after a moment’s pause, “whether you ever realize how young you are. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her.
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