That's a queer yarn. "Whist!" exclaimed Terence; "he elevates his glim. Light the lantern. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. He made a movement toward her, and then recalled the circumstances of their last conversation in that study. Her husband stared at her over the candle flame. 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.
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