'—'No fear o' that,' thought I. ‘Of course not,’ snapped his friend. 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. “I knew,” she said, in a low despairing tone, “that people would talk. ” He handed her the phone reluctantly, barely masking his mild disgust. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. “He’s got almost to like it.
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