Now I shall never hear it but what this evening will come pouring back over me. Last night there had been no time. ‘You speak as if you expected to meet her again, Gerald. The boy was coming around. I hear the sound of his horse's feet in the yard. "No—Sheppard?" rejoined Wild. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed.
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