Wood, carving for his friends, and pledging the carpenter, he had his hands full. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. He would discuss something she had been reading, and he would give her some unexpected angle, setting a fictional character before her with astonishing clearness. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. Mr. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. ‘How could you? No wonder mademoiselle is angry with you. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon. There’s something about you, a little flavor of Will, I suppose, that makes one feel—good luck about you and success. Then he turned with a fierce movement to take her into his arms.
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