All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. ‘They hold their nose up, so. ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation. " "Trying to. ToC Mr. Art was everywhere, underfoot in the form of mosaics, overhead in the form of architecture. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. He whispered in her ear. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. With this air in our blood, this sunlight soaking us.
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