He heard the door close; and in a little while he fell into a doze; and there came a dream filled with broken pictures, each one of which the girl dominated. Try and let him never regret it. 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. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood. I sha’n’t care a rap if we can never marry. “You know about my scandalous past?” “Very little.
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