No: I must face it out. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. She spent the morning up to ten in writing a series of unsuccessful letters to Ramage, which she tore up unfinished; and finally she desisted and put on her jacket and went out into the lamp-lit obscurity and slimy streets. Ruth wore a printed cotton kimono. Come close to me, and let me hold your hand, dear. But that other world, in spite of her resolute exclusion of it, was always looking round corners and peeping through chinks and crannies, and rustling and raiding into the order in which she chose to live, shining out of pictures at her, echoing in lyrics and music; it invaded her dreams, it wrote up broken and enigmatical sentences upon the passage walls of her mind. In her sitting-room I found Montague Hill. Raven locks fell to her shoulders from under the feathered beaver hat, and curled away down her back. ‘I escape from a fate entirely misérable, you understand.
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