Chapter 29: The Garden of Flaming Lilies
The voice of some maid servant singing a copla waked me early in the morning, after an hour or two of sleep.
El amor y la naranja
se parecen infinito;
Que por muy dulces que sean
de agrio tienen su poquito.(1)
Yes, always a little bitter, I said to myself. But if for me there were after all to be some sweetness left?
Last night before parting, the Cherub, Dick and I had talked matters over from every po
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