She had removed her hat and utterly disarranged her already unruly black locks by running agitated fingers through them. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. You will find it somewhere in that book. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. "On Friday," he replied. “I cannot part with you.
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