Wood, was examined. " With this, she burst into tears, and sank with her face upon his shoulder. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. “What’s the objection?” “I suppose she ought to know?” said Gwen to her mother, trying to alter the key of the conversation. 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.
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