The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. . "Well, it's a good story. ” She disengaged herself from him and went out of the room with a grave, preoccupied expression. " "I am here in Canton," she replied, simply. “Oh. Ruth felt his hand grow cold as it slipped from hers. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation. She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical.
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