And this is not France, you understand. . There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. The sounds of the seashore infiltrated her dreams as she floated in heavenly bliss of sleep. " "Curse on, and welcome," jeered Wild. ’ ‘You were quite as bad to me as I was to you,’ Gerald protested mildly, sitting down beside her. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture.
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