She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. ’ ‘You can arrest me,’ answered Kimble belligerently, ‘but you can’t make me say nothing about her. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. She had first picked up the fiddle back when it was still called a viol, that was how long she had been at it. I tell you that I love you, Anna, and I believe that you love me.
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