I thought that you loved Paris and your work so much. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him.
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