She knew Martha would not ask anything that she did not wish to know. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. “But if you knew anything of that—” “I did. Thank you for walking me home the other day. 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. ” She stirred gently in her chair.
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