They walked across a moat of pea gravel that crunched like noisy cereal under their feet. But most of all, I wanted to love. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. I am not French in the least. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself.
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