The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. 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. “We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. And then she could see nothing at all for his lips founds hers. All the events of the previous day rushed to his recollection; and though he had been unintentionally the cause of his mother's death, he reproached himself as severely as if he had been her actual murderer. MANNING,” she had begun. ‘I am done, Gérard.
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