’ ‘But where? Where has he gone? Always he goes off, and he says no word to anyone. "You are Ruth?" "Yes," said Ruth, stirred by anger and bitterness and astonishment. She went about in a negligent November London that had become very dark and foggy and greasy and forbidding indeed, and tried to find that modest but independent employment she had so rashly assumed. The spring can't be opened on this side.
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