Will you forgive me—if I say no more?” She looked at him with perplexed, earnest eyes. But she did not listen long; she wanted to talk. Latterly I’ve been doing things. They vanished through the doorway. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. " At the sound of his voice every vestige of colour fled from Winifred's cheeks, and the work upon which she was engaged fell from her hand.
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