’ She jumped up, and moved impatiently to the door. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. “I—I am sorry—I didn’t explain. ” He shook his head, and his eyes and the mouth under the black mustache wrinkled with his smile. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room. She held out her hand frankly.
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