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. "No; we never had one; at least, I never saw it. Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. " "At any rate, I won, for he went away. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. We have to hang about in the interval. I know there’s a sort of right in your impatience at the slowness of Progress. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. " "How have you procured these things?" asked Thames, in the utmost astonishment.
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