He could talk to her as frankly as he could to a man, that she would not take offence at anything so long as it was in the form of explanation. ” She marked an hotel that seemed neither opulent nor odd in a little side street opening on the Embankment, made up her mind with an effort, and, returning by Hungerford Bridge to Waterloo, took a cab to this chosen refuge with her two pieces of luggage. But never mind that. She had never been "My child" or "My dear"; always her name—Ruth. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming.
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