Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. Earles said, rubbing his hands together, “by post. It is useless to contend with him, even with right on your side.
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