I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. "What is it?" "Can't you see? Together, down there; you and I!… As my wife! Both of us, never to be lonely again!… Will you marry me, Ruth?" As many a wiser woman had done, Ruth mistook thrilling eagerness for love. Every other wall comprised bookcases, except where the doors appeared. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. ’ ‘But why, Marthe,’ asked Melusine, as she walked into the house. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. In this hour its colossal selfishness never occurred to him.
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