" "Blessings upon him!" cried Lady Trafford, fervently. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw. His frame was wasted, and slightly bent; his eyes were hollow, his complexion haggard, and his beard, which had remained unshorn during his hasty journey, was perfectly white. She approached Ruth with open arms; and something in the way the child came into that kindly embrace hurt the older woman to the point of tears. “I refuse. For the most part these were detached people: men practising the plastic arts, young writers, young men in employment, a very large proportion of girls and women—self-supporting women or girls of the student class. She mentally reprimanded herself to alter her own visage so as not to appear depraved.
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