So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. ‘Please to sit, monsieur. John looked at his feet bashfully. Let me recommend a glass of wine. "His disguise was capital; but I detected it in a moment. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. She felt her own body stir, ready for more. ’ Ignoring this, the major slipped his hands about her waist and lifted her to her feet. Presently he became filled with astonishment over the singular fact that Ruth was eluding him in fancy as well as in reality. The stranger looked at him as if strongly disposed to chastise his impertinence. Kneebone—she was too well acquainted; having, more than once, been obliged to repel his advances; and, though his impertinence would have given her little concern at another season, it now added considerably to her distraction.
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