Unfinished Work
Stories
"Is this an ill-favored jest? Did you hold your mistress so lightly
that you take her belongings for your own use?"
"I did not touch it, lord," the maidservant whispered, eyes owlish
in the shadowy chamber.
In a softer voice, the steward asked, "Or did she ask you to finish
this before she--"
"No, lord!" The maid began to weep. "Indeed, I have not her skill
with
the needle." Hiding her face in her apron, she fled from the
chamber.
Lord Denethor stood with a small embroidered jacket clenched in his
hands. "Come back,"" he whispered again and again.
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