Around her neck was a little gold chain. Never glance sideways at man. ” “It might become one,” he answered. She had made her way since then a little further into the heart of life. He regarded that perennial miracle of pinning with wrathful eyes. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort.
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