"Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. Gashes on his arms were already beginning to heal and disappear. The stags and oxen and things all have to fight for us, everywhere. But was that enough? Dim, formless suspicions of something more vital wandered about his mind. ’ ‘Damnation!’ Gerald burst out, crossing towards her. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. One thing may be a necessary collateral of the others.
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