He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. On their left the river, with its gloomy pile of buildings on the opposite side, and a huge revolving advertisement throwing its strange reflection upon the black water. “Through there,” he said, and pointed with the pamphlet he was carrying. No, no! Not now!" Ruth turned abruptly and walked toward the bungalow, mounted the veranda steps, and vanished within. He stopped before her suddenly. " "Respecting Thames Darrell?" observed Jack. No more.
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