We were to live in some wretched London suburb. \"Sorry. ’ ‘Excellent,’ Gerald had approved. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. " "Thank God for that!" cried Wood, heartily. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. His shoulders were bent, his face was furrowed with wrinkles. ’ ‘No, but you’ve made up for it since. And it’s like the petals falling from a flower. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Good words, without deeds, are rushes and reeds.
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