"Call as you please, beloved girl," he cried, "I will not stir till I am answered. "Whose grave is this?" he inquired of a man who was standing near it. The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city. She herself, and one other there, recognized the interposition of something akin to tragedy.
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