" Ruth laughed. But what I want to get at is this. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. She was very greatly exercised by the two systems of values—the two series of explanations that her comparative anatomy on the one hand and her sense of beauty on the other, set going in her thoughts. For the most part these were detached people: men practising the plastic arts, young writers, young men in employment, a very large proportion of girls and women—self-supporting women or girls of the student class. She decided to leave this matter until the morrow and devote the morning to settling up with Mr. Would to God I had. ” “It’s Shari’s work.
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