The preparations to meet him were immense, roses were planted everywhere, white and drooping with honeyed fragrance. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. If you can tell me nothing I don’t already know, so be it. "Hands off!" she exclaimed, "or you'll repent it. ” He woke the glassy water to swirling activity again, and made the deep-blue shapes below writhe and shiver. .
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