Wood. We can’t be lovers in the ordinary sense, but we can be great and intimate friends. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. Gazing into each other's eyes with new-found rapture, neither observed the sudden appearance in the doorway of an elderly woman in travel-stained linen.
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