Then, presto! What a dreary lot they are when the revellers lay aside the motley! Ruth had come from a far South Sea isle. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park.
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