He talked in the same style, and pretty nearly in the same language; laughed in the same manner, and coughed, or sneezed at the same time. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. “Friendships that are all very well between school-girls don’t always go on into later life. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. Without betraying the slightest confusion, or making a single remark, he quietly resumed his seat. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned.
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