Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. ” “I will think of it,” she promised. 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. . ” “Can’t we go down into Italy?” “No,” he said; “it won’t run to that now. Wood had been my father, as well as yours. He slapped his knee. Let alone a girl.
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