"So I think," replied Kneebone, again applying to the snuff-box, and by that means escaping the angry glance levelled at him by his companion. Thames unfolded the drawing, smoothed out its creases, and beheld a portrait of himself. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair.
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