It vosh plain he vent dat vay. 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. ” He saw her into the train at Waterloo, and stood, a tall, grave figure, with hat upraised, as the carriage moved forward slowly and hid him. ‘And I wouldn’t be no sort of a man if I’d heard what I heard, and gone off and left you. But his lips were honourlocked.
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