Over his limbs in sleep pale cool waves of light had passed. Away! Away! The spell of arms and voices: the white arms of roads, their promise of close embraces and the black arms of tall ships that stand against the moon, their tale of distant nations. He gazed calmly before him at the waning sky, glad of the cool of the evening and of the faint yellow glow which hid the tiny flame kindling upon his cheek. If you received this etext on a physical medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
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