” Sir John, frankly oblivious of the possibility of passers-by, took her into his arms and kissed her. Then she glanced at the cards again, over which her aunt’s many-ringed hand played, and then at the rather weak, rather plump face that surveyed its operations. Gerald saw her eyes change as she recognised him. 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. “I wonder,” she murmured to herself, “if this is the beginning.
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