It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. ” He paused and looked at her, and said, with a sudden drop into a confidential undertone, “Or else I want to pray. She was thinking fast now, all her senses on the alert. She said as much to him. “Forty guineas a week. I don't think. . 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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