\"Are you aware that every girl in Princeton Hills would kill for a chance at him? I think it's simple. A disconcerting gray eye that had a mystifying depth. She moaned, having failed in her mission to find her mother and her God. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. She reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. “And yet in a very few weeks I shall have done with it all. No, don’t interrupt me. If he succeeds there, I do not know how I can prove myself. My dear! we’ve had so many moments! I used to go over the times we’d had together, the things we’d said—like a rosary of beads. I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. Tight. Am I mistaken? Is your heart mine?" "It is—it is; and has ever been," replied Winifred, falling upon his neck. ’ ‘Ah, that explains your surprise. He was beginning to think about her inordinately.
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