“You asked me in to tea,” he protested. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. The conceit of Howard Spurlock in imagining he knew what mental suffering was! But Enschede was right: Ruth must never know. There, in a little tea and sweetstuff shop, she bought and consumed slowly and absent-mindedly the insufficient nourishment that is natural to her sex on such occasions. Don't suppose," she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, "that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you. “I won’t have you quarrelling and crying in the Avenue,” he said.
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