A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. . Not MY affair. But for him she might have been alive and happy. " Gently she thrust Ruth aside. He was always tenderly courteous; he answered her ordinary questions readily and her extraordinary ones patiently; he always rose when she entered or left the room. She paused for a moment. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. But, as he made no answer, he was removed. ” A birthday present of a microscope had turned his mind to technical microscopy when he was eighteen, and a chance friendship with a Holborn microscope dealer had confirmed that bent. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it.
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