To Ruth the thought of Hartford no longer projected upon her vision a city of spires and houses and tree-lined streets. . It had gone with the rest. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. ” “He certainly did not follow you out,” Brendon answered. " "Ah. This is not what I want. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. And were you to load me with thrice the weight of iron you have ordered you should not prevent my escaping a third time. “And I have dragged you all over here for nothing,” she murmured.
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