“Promise me that you’ll never tell another living soul, John. " "You'd better," replied Quilt. Like stealing. She seemed bursting with the desire to talk, and watching for her opportunity. " "Better she die by her own hand, than by that monster's," cried Jack, brandishing the bar. “I know. She leaned forward in her chair, as if petrified in fear by the scary story. ” “Against your will?” He asked. "Nothing—nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. She rested for a half hour in heaven on earth, feeling herself drift in and out of sleep. 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.
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