She drifted northward from the Strand, and came on some queer and dingy quarters. The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. Insulting cries became frequent and various, but for the most part she could not understand what was said. It isn’t such fun as it seems. “Your great success has been my joy, our joy as well as yours. ” “You don’t. Perhaps he truly meant it – perhaps there was a force within him that could withstand the hardships of existing past a mortal lifetime.
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