. “He’s got almost to like it. still a kid!” He said. " "My son!" echoed the widow, trembling. Her roving eagerness was at all times shaded with shyness, reserve, repression. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. The by now familiar dramatic sigh came. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford.
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