It was his purpose to complete four or five stories before he sent any away. "That's scarcely a fair question, Mr. ” “It’s an unrest—a longing—What’s that?” The waiter had intervened. Meantime, every preparation had been made outside for his departure. “It was only yesterday I had your letter, and you never mentioned coming over. They were going up the slope into Waterloo Station. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. I was certain of it.
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