And so down the path ridged with the bronze bars of late afternoon sunlight, they passed, Harry strutting in the lead, wrinkled face lifted, scanty white locks streaming in the breeze as he drew from his whistle a wild sweet melody.,
Frank lifted a wan face. "You mean——?" his dry lips formed the words.,
He caught his breath and stood with lifted face, as the white light swept it, lingered on it, drew from it reluctantly..
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