" Ruth repeated the word, not in the effect of a query, but ruminantly. It was the first day you kissed me, under the willows, coming into Veraz. Softly she rose to her feet. From time to time she would come upon a line of singular beauty or a paragraph full of haunting music; and these would send her rushing on for something that never happened. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. "Your boast, you see, was a little premature, Mr. 1.
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