Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. 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. "For the sake of the girl. “Have you told anybody else?” Lucy asked. And then scratched it out and wrote instead, “Gérard”. By this time, he had apparently accomplished all he desired; for moving the bottle out of Jack's reach, he appropriated it entirely to his own use, leaving the devoted lad to the care of the females. It is absolutely a frightful neighbourhood, this. He tried not to think—of Ruth with her mother's locket, of her misguided father, taking his lonely way to sea. I mean that the point is that vividness of perception is the essential factor of beauty; but, of course, vividness may be created by a whisper.
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