She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. Water sprung from the corners of the school roof, turning it into a gigantic fountain. He had found her by the same agency her father had: native talk, which flew from isle to isle as fast as proas could carry it. She was instinctively aware of him as she had been of Julian. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling.
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