’ ‘What?’ gasped Gerald, shocked. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. She caught at the idea. “You are neither of you in the least like the ordinary boarding-house young man. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Yes—as he would have liked. It was impossible. “I will not have this slavery,” she said. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. Or felt it. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. . But that brought Mrs.
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