The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off. “Neither you nor I, Nigel, are made of such stuff,” she answered. He had no wish to go foraging in Spurlock's trunk. But of what use to wear it when there was no one of importance to see and admire? ‘For shame, Melusine,’ protested Lucy, as the butler bowed himself out of the room. “Quite alone, sir. ’ ‘Yes, that is what he said,’ agreed Melusine, pleased to find him of so ready an understanding. She donned her gloves. A solemn consideration, when I enter a great city at night, that every one of those darkly clustered houses encloses its own secret; that every room in every one of them encloses its own secret; that every beating heart in the hundreds of thousands of breasts there, is, in some of its imaginings, a secret to the heart nearest it!' … It kind of terrifies me," said Ruth, looking up, first at the face of her husband, then at McClintock's.
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