Ruth, having decided a course for herself—that of renunciation—and having the strength to keep it, met these advances in precisely the mood they were offered. "Well, you never can tell," he continued, lamely. Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key. It was now a quarter past twelve. If Gerald knew, what should stop Gosse from finding out? Perhaps he was even now at the lawyer. It was as if her finite human brain could only store a limit of information, details like hair color and fingernail shape easily jettisoned to make room for the nuances of a grin or the emotion of a shoulder blade.
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