She kept pausing in her work and regarding it, and when Capes came round to her, she first put her hand in her lap and then rather awkwardly in front of him. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. That there would eventually be a lover Ruth knew; and she waited his appearance upon the scene, waited with an impatience which was both personal and literary. Sheppard, fixing her glazing eyes upon him. “I was sick of the make-believe.
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