“Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. And, though neither peace nor innocence can be restored to my bosom; though tears cannot blot out my offences, nor sorrow drown my shame; yet, knowing that my penitence is sincere, I do not despair that my transgressions may be forgiven. 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. . ” Lucy said, watching people mechanically pump quarters into the till.
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