The gang made forays into the gardens of old maids or went down to the castle and fought a battle on the shaggy weed-grown rocks, coming home after it weary stragglers with the stale odours of the foreshore in their nostrils and the rank oils of the seawrack upon their hands and in their hair. Perhaps a wild rose might be like those colours and he remembered the song about the wild rose blossoms on the little green place. She didn't know--no one knew--how proud I had been to serve him and to stick to our terms; yet she nonetheless took the measure, I think, of the warning I now gave her. --Alas, my dear little boys, they too fell.
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