] CHAPTER VIII Slowly Ruth entered her own room. But, here they are. Try and let him never regret it. " Carefully depositing Winifred on a sofa, Jack then extinguished the light, and, as he unfastened the door, crept behind it. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. He hated horizons. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man.
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