” “Isn’t it enough that I love you? Turn me now. “Don’t!” she begged. I was certain of it. . He then tried the door of Mr. I can fairly understand Ruth; but you…!" "Have you ever been so lonely that the soul of you cried in anguish? Twentyfour hours a day to think in, alone?… Perhaps I did not want to go mad from loneliness. “I want to know who you are. “If it will keep you busy,” he said, with a faintly ironical smile. Sheppard, with a look, the wildness of which greatly alarmed her companion. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account.
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