No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. “I want a vote for myself,” she said. Perhaps that is why I lost my ambition. Such was the hubbub and tumult around him, that the carpenter could not hear its plunge into the flood. What reassured her, however, more than anything else, was the shape of the mouth: it was warmly turned. It's always hard work for a rich man's son to stand alone. "Speak out—don't be alarmed," said Wood, in a kind and encouraging tone. \"But nothing is going to happen. He saw rifts in clouds—sunshine. She cried and sobbed in fits. She tried to compose her thoughts, to think of the last six months, to steep herself in the calm beauty of the surroundings. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed.
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