“I must explain to her. Swiftly following the sound of knocking, she crossed right and passed through a door near the windows—and found herself in the bookroom. “Yes, John. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. ‘I don’t know that I dare. 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. Instead of which they walked sharply. “I knew I should have died!” She went fast into a state of shock. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes.
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