Wood's favourite sitting-room, and her image was so intimately associated with it, neither the carpenter nor his daughter could muster courage to enter it before. She stared out of the paned glass window, watching the trees being blown bare by the gale force. There were two sisters, you know. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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