Then he understood. Still, that leaves over a million shrines short, not reckoning widows who re-marry. "My horse is at the door, saddled, with pistols in the holsters,—mount him and fly. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms.
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