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Wood, who appeared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, "in the hope that they may prove acceptable. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. She savored the sweetness of his lips, all of his great youth and passion and longed for his innocence, his complete lack of the knowledge of terrible things. A tarnish of constraint that had recently spread over her intercourse with Capes vanished again. Very well, then. They’re fairly intricate little things. He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table.
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