I’m sorry I ruined dinner. She tucked her stick under her arm and re-read Manning’s letter. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. He seemed to be about to move toward her. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. "I am too much honoured—too happy in the union.
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