She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. “Let us walk round to Covent Garden,” he suggested. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. In some incomprehensible way that back view made her feel sorry for Alice. Then, in a few years, he and Ruth might fare forth in comfort and security. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is.
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