It was worth so much difference, so many differences,—the reconciliation; the crossing over from such a separation in their natures to meet again as they had started in life, heart open to heart, tongue garrulous to tongue, all revealed, understood, nothing concealed,—absolutely nothing. For there was a generous rivalry in loyal self-surrender and confession until Stasie again blew the horn for supper; and the feeble echoes returning quickly to the gallery, like aged birds after a short flight, put an end to the interview.
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