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. McClintock was amused. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. You truly are your mother’s, Lucia. You were accused of having been seen with the latter.
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