‘Forgive my not rising to greet you,’ she said, holding out a claw-like hand. ” Her mind diverged to other aspects, and another type of womanhood. I'm safe enough if you hold your tongue. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. I have—run away. And then came the vile experience of being forced and borne along the street to the police-station. 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.
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