Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging. It was no wonder, there was no money to buy food for the house. He blurted, “I was just telling Lucy that I have finished an important work. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. 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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