"Go on first with the light," he said. “There are a good many Whites in London. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. She found herself alone in the train asking herself what she must do next, and trying not to think of herself as cut off from home or any refuge whatever from the world she had resolved to face. "These writer chaps are queer birds. That’s probably true.
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