82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. " "Is that all!" retorted Jonathan. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there. Afraid, no doubt, he thought grimly, that her other visitor would leave. Gerald frowned. Nothing to do; nothing for the hands, the mind, the heart.
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