We had such a pride in you, such hope in you. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. She struggled not to be afraid. ‘The man’s gone,’ her old nurse told her, when she had recovered a little. He had become an extremely handsome man, his hair having darkened and his shoulders having realized their full size. I can vouch for that. He did not love Ruth.
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