No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. He never finished his sentence. "What's your name?" he said, addressing the audacious lad, who was looking about him as coolly as if nothing material was going on. She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly.
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