Wood fared still worse. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. Do anything to please you, Vee. You are the woman I love, Anna. She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. "Aha!" exclaimed Jack, with a roguish wink, "I've caught you,—have I?" The carpenter's daughter was fair and free— Fair, and fickle, and false, was she! She slighted the journeyman, (meaning me!) And smiled on a gallant of high degree. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. ‘But for now, I’m taking you home.
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