"Every inch of it," replied the woollen-draper. Stonily he had disengaged himself. 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. ” “It is Number 8, Cavendish Square,” she answered simply. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. . She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. And Pottiswick, of course.
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