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Told in a French Garden - August, 1914 by Mildred Aldrich
page 89 of 204 (43%)
and content were running out rapidly to the last sand!

I had reached the shallow steps that led up the knoll to the arbor!

At that moment the clouds were swept off from the face of the moon,
and the white light fell full on her.

But she was not alone. She rested in the arms of my friend, as, God
help me, she had never rested in mine--in an abandon that was only too
eloquent.

What was said?

Who but God knows that now?

What do men like us, who have thought themselves one in all things,
until one love rends them asunder, say at such a time? As for me, I
cannot recall a word!

I did not even see his face.

I think he saw mine no more.

We seemed to see into the soul of each other, through the very heart
of that frail woman between us, that slender creature in the bridal
dress, who sank down before us, as if the colliding passions of two
strong men had killed her.

It was he who raised her up. His hands placed her in my arms. No need
to say that she was blameless. I knew all that.
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