He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room. He had put himself before the threshold of damnation; for Ruth was now a vestal in the temple. He has no imagination, no real generosity. \" Lucy winced. “You are very good,” she said. ’ With satisfaction, Gerald noted that her voice was hopelessly unsteady and drove home his advantage. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone.
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