" "Hum!" exclaimed Jonathan. "Arundel Stairs," replied Wood, "the nearest point to Wych Street. Lord, what a state I was in! Night after night I sat there, I watched her come in, I watched her go. He destroyed her clumsily made dolls whenever he found them. . I love you—unendurably. She had time in the afternoons to do crewelwork and embroidery, no longer occupied by the constant spinning of wool. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right.
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