It's a sorry world," he went on. " There was a pause. The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. "I'll have my cot in here," said Spurlock to Ruth, "where this table is. We went our ways. I saw him yesterday, and he told me he shouldn't stir from home for a week to come. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. And I suppose it is too much to expect that any entirely English young lady would be prepared to tolerate me for the remainder of my life. “You told me that in the Zoological Gardens.
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