The jolly part of it was that for the first time in her life so far as London was concerned, she was not going anywhere in particular; for the first time in her life it seemed to her she was taking London in. On the second day out he was helped to a steamer-chair on deck; on the third day, his arm across Ruth's shoulder, he walked from his chair to the foremast and back. Her safety lay in pretense—that what she saw was as a tale twice told. " Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales.
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