It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. It seemed to him that speech would be an anticlimax.
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