Mrs. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken. The voice of the young seaman came floating down from the masthead, and the story of the immortal lovers had begun. It is not a dissipated face. It drives him to my island, where I can study him to my heart's content.
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