"They stood still and shivered; for it seemed as if grey time were calling them back from their sunny youth, far down into the chill and darksome vale of years. Even while the party were looking at it, the flower continued to shrivel up, till it became dry and fragile. 'I love it as well thus, as in its dewy freshness,' observed the doctor."
A master's obsessive tales of mortal imperfections.
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