‘Don’t concern yourself. I keep on thinking of little details and aspects of your voice, your eyes, the way you walk, the way your hair goes back from the side of your forehead. He said nothing, even though it was not raining. There's something queer about that young man; but we'll never be able to find out what it is. So that way is closed. \" His brown eyes were tired and full of concern. Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. Of this I'm certain, however, she was much too good for him, and was never meant to be a journeyman carpenter's wife, still less what is she now. “I hope that whatever your plans may be, you will give me the opportunity of seeing something of you now and then.
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