Summer These summer pinks are not grown in masses as freely as as they deserve.
— from The Garden, You, and I by Mabel Osgood Wright
It transfigured Barbara's yellow hair into a crown of gold, and put a new gentleness into Miriam's lined face as she sat in the half-light, one of them in blood, yet singularly alien and apart.
— from Flower of the Dusk by Myrtle Reed
But a railway ticket and a few louis in my pocket are no good in my case.
— from The Guests Of Hercules by A. M. (Alice Muriel) Williamson
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