The late afternoon, en effet. He looked at her reproachfully. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time. You on the other hand have to come to London, a worker, with the responsibility of life upon your own shoulders—and in addition all the burden of her follies. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe. “Time for my Patience,” she said. Ruth sighed; Spurlock stood up and drew his hand across his forehead as if awakening from a dream.
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