WHY, oh why do we for ever associate romance with moonlit nights, snow‐capped mountains, southern seas, and the sun‐baked alleys of the Far East? Why, when everywhere and every day it is to be found close at hand, whether we live in the solitude of the country or the clangour of the town? The very air is charged with it; the elfin figures of romance dance and weave their intricacies before us, if we have but eyes to see.
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