Saint Giles's Round-house XIII. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. 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. A faint gleam of returning colour gave her at once a more natural appearance. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. Sheppard, rushing from the adjoining room.
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