"You want him?" "Please!" said Ruth. If it were but the question of his reason for marrying her, the solution would have been simple. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. Locked! He sped out to the corridor and went swiftly into the next room. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. "We're forgetting," he said. " "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. We had no idea.
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