I owe his mother one, and will repay the debt, with interest, to her son. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. "I'd forgotten. 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. En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat. ” The sensation produced was gratifying enough.
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