The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. ” She controlled a sob. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. "I am. “Well,” she said. " On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation. After passing Tottenham Court Road, very few houses were to be seen on the right hand, opposite Wardour Street it was open country. Again, he would ask a few questions, and Ruth would answer them. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile. There was more shouting.
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