Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. ’ She frowned suddenly. " "I'm sorry. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. . And talking of every conceivable thing. She formed a wild resolution, and, lest she should waver from it, she set about at once to realize it. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. . Yes. She attacked his hair resolutely. " "Your hesitation is not in your favour," observed Trenchard, sternly. But once I started, Forever Fifteen seemed to fly out of me like a bat out of Hell, virtually writing itself.
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