That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. I have it on my conscience that I offended you—” “Offended me when?” “I’ve been haunted by the memory of you. ” “Well, you can’t say you’re a failure there,” Lady Lescelles remarked, smiling. Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. " "Very true," chuckled Jackson; "very true.
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