—What do you know of Thames?— Where is he?" "Don't agitate yourself, dearest girl," rejoined the woollen-draper; "or I shall never be able to commence my relation. Mother—dear mother!" he added, clasping her in his arms, "Look at me again. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. " "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling.
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