"If it is true," she sighed, "that you find in me a friend, let us turn back together. You will forget, here, under the summer sky."
I held her close, pleading, caressing; I seized her, white with anger, but she resisted.
"If it is true," she sighed, "that you find in me a friend, let us turn back together."
The Phantom of the Past would go no further.
The King in Yellow, The Phantom, by Robert W. Chambers
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