He rested his brow on his hand and conveyed magnificent tragedy by his pose. "I'm an ungrateful dog!" "You will be if you don't instantly kiss me the way you used to. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. I know that you were disappointed because I did not turn out to be the millionaire. If he stayed in the basement apartment as was his usual habit, she would have no problem. “Like what, Lucy?” She saw the panic threaten to overtake him. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love.
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