It was a shame that they had made such a fuss, she thought as he arrived. "By my shalvation, boy," he added, fiercely, "if you don't take your hande off my peard, I'll sthrangle you. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. 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. She was weeping now.
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