Before there is any change, any real change, I shall be dead—dead—dead and finished—two hundred years!. But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. At least until we graduate.
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