” She disengaged herself from him and went out of the room with a grave, preoccupied expression. She had no place she loved. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. Your name. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. For in life there is but one hour: an epic or an idyll: all other hours lead up to and down from it. ” “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply. She bent down. He would repeat them innumerable times, and patiently Ruth would repeat her answers.
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