"I don't exactly know the rights of that affair," rejoined Griffin, with some curiosity. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. ’ ‘Well, sir? Who is “she”? Not my granddaughter, I take it. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Stanley, having pretended to linger to smoke, fled suddenly up-stairs to petrography, and when Veronica tapped he answered through the locked door, “Go away, Vee! I’m busy,” and made a lapidary’s wheel buzz loudly. She peered into the darkness. They trudged along a little hungry, because of the fruitarian refreshments, and mentally very active. \"He's good-looking. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud.
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