Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. “One moment, if you please!” She stopped short and looked round. ’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last. “I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. She was wan and white.
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