She pulled the door so that it was not quite to, and held out her hand, palm up. He came as an agreeable diversion from an insoluble perplexity. "Who's there?" cried Rachel. He moved to one side, bowing and gesturing to the door. "But are you really there?" "No, I'm here," answered Jack, leaping down. Still it was possible, and the difficulty was only a fresh incitement. He waved to her. . It’s a sort of blacklegging to want to have a life of one’s own. To take Spring and Love out of her life, as if there were no human instincts to tell Ruth what was being denied her! And what must have been the man's thought as he came upon Ruth wearing a gown of her mother's? —a fair picture of the mother in the primrose days? Not a flicker of an eyelash; steel and granite outwardly.
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