" "Dare not!" echoed the carpenter; "I don't understand you, Joan. He felt hands tugging at him, mysterious creatures with long fingers and sharp nails that pulled at his flesh. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ” “I forgive you willingly,” Anna said, bending over him.
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