Ennison paused by the little gate. I want to get away—to go to London. My poor son despairs of me, for I have primed every member of the family to bring me the latest novels whenever they choose to visit. Blueskin will take care of the horses, and I'll go with you. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. “John, did those roses cost a fortune?” “Like I’m going to tell you!” “Oh, John, they were so pretty, but they must have cost an arm and a leg, and you should be saving for college. Poor girl! she was beautiful once; so beautiful as to make me, who care little for the allurements of women, fancy myself enamoured of her. 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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