“You’ve got my view,” he said, after a pensive second. Nigel, do you know that I have been very jealous?” He avoided the invitation of her eyes. . "Why does she weep?" Ruth wanted to know. " "Are you ready?" said Trenchard, striding towards the door. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go.
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