I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Wood!" exclaimed Jack, in surprise. “I’ll try to stop by.
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