His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. “I wonder if they will seem altered,” she remarked for the third time. The turning of the key startled her, but she did not see how she could make an objection. 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. ’ ‘They wear a uniform, do they not? They march and fight with swords and shoot with guns, no?’ ‘Well, yes, miss. " There was a pause.
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