A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. ‘You are stubborn like a mule. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. But I trusted to that ring of yours. "Have you broken out of the cage, Jack?" "Something like it," replied the lad carelessly. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. She would write to Gerald. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening.
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