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"Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn; Und das hat mit ihrem Singen Die Lorelei gethan." "You wicked little Lorelei," she panted, as they sat down on the sand. "I'm not wicked," said Anne, composedly, "and the next time you use me for a model, Judy, I wish you would get an easier place than on that old rock."
And he finished the verse with unruffled decorum "Will Satan mich verschlingen, So lass die Engel singen Hallelujah!" We never had another difference. Up to then he had been my willing slave, and after that I was his. With a smile and a shiver I turned from the border and its memories to the door in the wall leading to the kitchen garden, in a corner of which my own little garden used to be.
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