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” “Why in Heaven’s name should I forget?” he cried. Then he sensed the trap. 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 suppose, Mr. ” “You came to tell me this?” “I came for you,” he declared fiercely. If they do, now and then, run away with a knocker, paint a sign, beat the watch, or huff a magistrate, they pay for their pastime, and that's sufficient. You never can tell. “Ann Veronica,” he said, “I tell you this is love. “It spreads like wildfire. If ever he requires my services, he shall find I'm not ungrateful.
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