“I cannot reason with you,” he said at last wearily. It creaked slightly. Every inch of the house felt safe to her, small and welcoming. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs. "The key," replied the widow.
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