White, my landlady, believes his story. “Time for my Patience,” she said. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. “Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. A man is so apt to—to take women a little too lightly. She packed her things, then ran a mile to Julian’s apartment.
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