‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. And yet—such is the buoyancy of youth—within a fortnight he began his first novel, pretending to himself that it was on Ruth's account. That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly humourless.
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