“I don’t see that his being a good sort matters. ” “Against your will?” He asked. "See how glad he is!" His irony and displeasure subsided. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. " "I will go, if you will consent to meet me at midnight near the old house in Wych Street," replied Jack. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. The day had become suddenly overcast. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. They set about everyone—everyone. “The unaccountable thing is that I wouldn’t go home to please her.
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