Books were always sliding and slipping, clumsy objects to hold. But she made a pretence of struggling a little, for it would be out of character for her not to do so and she did not want to arouse his suspicions. But I found it no laughing matter, I can assure you. ” He stood looking at the preparations before them with an unusual preoccupation of manner, then roused himself to take her jacket, a little awkwardly, and hand it to the waiter who hung it in the corner of the room. Ruth did not resent the use of her mind and body in this tale of adventure. Her head dipped deeply into the current, and she narrowly escaped being swamped. ” She repeated, as if she answered an objector: “A sort of blacklegging. "Why do you laugh?" she asked gravely. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit.
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