" Mr. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. With her foodle doo! "I've a toast to propose," cried Sheppard, filling a bumper. She had never felt so cold, she felt even colder than she had in the water. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. Ruth stared into the painted face, now sundrily cracked by the coursing tears. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean.
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