Ah, no, I have it wrong. Go off and live together—until we can marry. ’ ‘Valade?’ ‘Aye, sir. Burn your palette and your easel. ” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. "There's another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness.
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