He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. Thank you for walking me home the other day. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. She was weeping now.
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