I'm sure she'll let me go, though. He was so depressed and disheartened that he did not then believe he would ever write again. Sheppard prepared for church. 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. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. After all, life had still its pulsations. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha. His little doll. "Where?" she cried.
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